


Strike Back

by PleaseDontHoldBack



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2018-05-26 14:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6242542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PleaseDontHoldBack/pseuds/PleaseDontHoldBack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>10 years after the war and Draco Malfoy had been content with his life of publishing books under a pen name and never leaving his house.  But that was before Harry Potter started stalking him and a crazy murderous plebeian started hacking up ex-Deatheaters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Potions Master

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first plot line I've thought of in well over five years, so go easy on me please. I'm excited to start writing again, but I'm playing around with a couple stories all at once, so please be patient with me.

 Sitting on the corner of Continental Avenue and Forest Park sat a ranch-style house, complete with an attached-garage. There was nothing unusual about this house at first glance; it matched all the other houses on the street. Even entering said house would leave you certain it belonged to some low-end muggle.

Inside the front room sat a mismatched couch and love-seat, a wooden rocking chair, and a small television set. There was a closet sitting to the right of the front door. The walls and carpet were both cream-colored. No pictures sat on the walls. It was a truly boring house.

It was passed this front room where the magic and grandeur started. The walls were covered in moving pictures: Severus Snape stood alone in one frame, the Malfoy family sat in another, Bellatrix, looking sane for once, stood in another, there was one of Vincent Crabbe, one of Gregory Goyle, another of Pansy Parkinson, and another of Blaise Zabini. The biggest picture was of Albus Dumbledore, smiling innocently and waving to no one in particular from his picture frame. The room was displayed in all greens and silvers. Two giant, leather sectionals sat facing the giant fireplace that stood in the middle of the room. The fireplace was probably one of the most comfortable entrances to the floo network known to wizarding kind.

The house was actually three stories full of luxury, complete with a basement, though you could never tell from looking at it outside. It also belonged to the wizard known as Draco Malfoy.

At this moment the owner was sitting in the attic. The attic was a single room, surrounded on all sides by books. There was a single gap in a row of books designed to allow room for a single, round window. In the center of the room was a giant desk. Beside this desk was where Draco Malfoy sat, looking much the worse for wear compared to how he had ever looked in school, most likely due to the fact that he had not left the attic for a shower in what was going on three days.

A radio off to the side played some muggle tune, but Draco wasn't paying much attention to it, too absorbed in his work.

You see, Draco Malfoy had made quite a name for himself as a potions master, even if it wasn't officially under _his_ name, but a pen name. Three days ago he had gotten an offer to add some of his self-concocted potions into the Hogwarts potions textbooks. Since the letter he had worked like crazy to list all of the potions he had thought would be helpful to learn, any notes that might be useful, and what years he felt they should be taught in.

New Ministry law dictated that every newly created potion had to be sent to them for testing, along with a detailed description of what it did and the ingredients used. Draco Malfoy had decided very early on that if he had to do all that, he might as well write a book and let the entire public know. And so he had hired Pansy Parkinson to be his editor and distributor, and he had been making quite a pretty penny on his potions and his books. He found that the two advertised each other well, and he had become quite the renowned potions master. He would often get owls asking for help with this or that tweaking, or asking his advice if a potion did that or this.

Draco Malfoy sat back for a minute, finished writing down the ingredients and notes to one potion and thinking about which potion he would want in the book next. He decided on the anti-flamation potion, a potion that would render the drinker impervious to flames, both magical and nonmagical.

That particular potion always made him think of that night in the Room of Requirement, when he had lost Crabbe. True, they weren't exactly ever friends, but that didn't make Draco feel any better about the incident. That was the exact reason he had come up with the potion, after all. He had hoped it would make him feel better, but it seemed as if that wasn't the case.

It had been over a decade since Harry Potter had defeated Voldemort and ended the war. It had been over a decade since the Malfoy name had been truly smeared. Over a decade since his father had been sent to Azkaban and his mother had died. Over a decade since Malfoy Manor had burned to the ground. Over a decade since Draco had decided that moving to the muggle world and distancing himself from the wizarding world would be best for everyone.

He still had to go to Knockturn Alley and Diagon Alley for potion ingredients, of course, but he always wore a hood. He thought it best that no one remembered the name Malfoy still existed.

He often wondered why he didn't die during the war. Why had he been left to pick up all the pieces that had been broken as soon as Potter had forced Voldemort to his knees. Left to refigure out everything he had been taught, with no one around to teach him. Forced to lie about what he believed in, because he no longer knew what he believed in.

Personally, he felt it would have been so much easier had he just died in that fire.

_Wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend. You could, cut ties with all the lies that you've been living in. And if you do not want to see me again, I would understand._

Draco snapped out of his thoughts to look at the radio that was making all the racket. He glared at it. "That's a little too dramatic, don't you think?" he asked before turning it off. He rubbed at his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired, indeed. He had been up for three days straight, after all, and stimulants could only help him so much (although the new stimulant potion he had created _did_ do wonders).

He was seriously thinking about retiring to bed when he felt someone step out of his fireplace downstairs.

* * *

Harry had agreed to meet his friends for some coffee in Diagon Alley, and he was trying very hard to be excited about it.

It had been over a decade since he had defeated Voldemort and started trying to have a normal life. He had hoped that people would stop staring at him, but if it was going to happen, it hadn't happened yet. It'd been over a decade since he had started training to become an Auror, a job that was actually pretty boring now that they had successfully locked up all the known Death Eaters. Now his job was filled with busy work and checking to make sure all magic outbursts were actually just magical children too young for Hogwarts (which was almost always the case).

It had been over a decade since he married Ginny Weasley. And over five years since she had decided that he couldn't give her what she needed and left him. Harry had felt numb during that moment, but he had also felt numb before and after that moment. He hadn't been the same since the war, and everybody knew it.

It had been almost a decade since Ron and Hermione married each other and started raising a child together. Her name was Rose and she was absolutely adorable: eight years old and all ready to go to Hogwarts, even though she was three years too early. She was a small thing with brown hair and brown eyes, her father's skill at chess, and her mother's penchant for reading. She had already set their house on fire twice with accidental magic.

It'd been over a decade since Hermione had accepted a job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And it only took her a few days for everyone in the department to realize that controlling magical creatures was not on Hermione Granger's agenda. She was now a liaison for almost all magical creatures, frequently taking trips to meet with werewolves, veela, vampires, centaurs, and mermaids, among others. She even met with house elves, who, thanks to Hermione, now had a voice, albeit one that they had yet to actually use.

It'd been over a decade since Ronald Weasly had applied for a job in the Department of Improper Use of Magic Office. He had wanted to be close to Harry, who had already signed up to be an auror, but had decided that he needed a break from the excitement. And since most of Harry's assignments were dealing with child magic he saw Ron a lot at work.

Harry sighed to himself in the mirror. Ever since his divorce with Ginny he felt like a third wheel around his two friends. Ron and Hermione were so happy together, and he was pretty certain he would never find that level of happiness. They were in their own world: talking through looks and finishing each other's sentences.

It was hard for Harry to stomach sometimes, as hard as it was to admit. He was jealous. Hermione and Ron seemed to be living the normal, happy life he had always wanted, but had yet to be able to achieve. Seeing his two friends together was a painful reminder that he probably would never have what they had. But still, a promise was a promise, and they were still his friends.

* * *

"Parkinson," Draco said. As soon as his editor stepped out of the fireplace he was there to greet her. "I thought I told you that I was going to have to put a hold on my next book."

"Right, right," Pansy replied. She cast a quick scourgify to get rid of all the offending soot on her robes. "But this isn't about that, my darling Draco." She flopped gracefully in a leather sectional before clapping her hands.

A house elf came immediately to her aid and bowed. "Good evening, Miss Pansy. I is Milford. How may Milford make your stay more comfortable?"

"It's 'I _am_ Milford', for heaven's sake. Would it _kill_ you to learn some proper grammar?" Pansy snapped. She had always been a bit of a grammar nazi; it was the biggest reason she had never kept house elves in her own home.

"I is sorry, my lady," Milford said. "Milford is a bad house elf, very bad." He looked truly sad as he stared at his feet. Or maybe he was a female. Draco had never been able to tell the difference, and he never had enough interest to ask.

Pansy rolled her eyes at the continuous errors in grammar. "Never mind, never mind. Just get us some tea and talk less when you bring it."

Milford nodded before disappearing.

Draco rubbed the bridge of his nose. It always annoyed him how at home Pansy made herself. "Exactly what is this about then if not the book?" he asked, continuing their earlier conversation. "You know I don't give away potions, not even to editors."

"You're so cold, Draco," Pansy whined. She took her tea from the house elf that had reappeared before motioning to Draco to take his. She sipped on it for a minute before continuing. "And it has nothing to do with potions. Well, it _does_  somewhat, but not about me getting any free ones."

Draco sipped at his own tea, trying to will his head not to explode. Pansy could never get to the point of anything, and it drove him absolutely mad. "I have not had any sleep in three days, Parkinson. Perhaps it would be best if you simply got to the bloody point."

Pansy sniffed and sipped more at her tea. "I gathered as much, Draco. You always resort to calling me by my last name when you're in a foul mood. Which is almost always, might I add."

Draco clenched his teeth.

"Right! Anyway," Pansy stated, deciding it was time to whip her delightful and ingenious plan into action. She placed her tea cup onto its saucer which sat on the glass coffee table in front of her and stood up, starting to pace the room. "Everyone is eager to see you, Draco," she explained. "Or, at any rate, everyone is eager to meet the great potions master, Seth Snape."

Snape was his pen name, of course. Seth from the Hebrew meaning 'appointed one': appointed by Snape. It may have never been officially declared, but Draco felt justified in claiming the title.

It was Draco's turn to roll his eyes. "I'm not meeting anyone, Parkinson. I'm perfectly happy to stay right here. I've told you that enough times I thought you'd take the hint by now."

"Right, right," Pansy replied, waving him off. "But this is a big opportunity, Draco. And, may I remind you, sales on the last book weren't up to your standards. You're losing your audience, my darling Draco. People are forgetting about you."

"That's exactly what they should do," Draco replied, also standing. "Look at me, you idiot," he spoke calmly, but made sure to glare hard at his editor as he gestured to himself. "Look at this hair and these eyes. To anyone they scream 'Malfoy'. If you think people knowing it's me will help distribution then you're more dense than a Hufflepuff."

Pansy did not seem put off by anything her friend was telling her. "My dearest Draco, are you too busy making new potions to remember the old ones you've concocted? You can simply make yourself a trait modifier," she declared, naming off a potion Draco had invented almost a decade ago. "You turn your eyes and hair brown, and no one will think twice; no one's looking for any Malfoys anymore, after all."

"And you expect me to go to this party alone? Throw me to the wolves?" Draco asked, knowing full well that anyone attending a big party alone was more than likely to be completely hounded by everyone in attendance. "Or is my editor going to be my date? I'm sure that will look absolutely beautiful on me." There was a time, too long ago, that Draco loved those parties, and loved the attention of going alone. But that was a lifetime ago, and Draco no longer appreciated the attention as he once had.

Pansy sighed at him; getting him to even listen to her was such a challenge. Still, this was an absolutely brilliant plan, and she was determined to see it through. "Who do you think I am, Draco? You think, after all the parties I've attended, I'd send you out on your own? The number of times you've spoken for longer than a minute can be counted on one hand, after all. If I sent you into a party alone I'd just make a fool out of both of us." Pansy walked over to the fireplace and stuck her head and arm in.

When she came back out she was pulling Blaise Zabini.

"You've got to be kidding me," Draco muttered, mostly to himself. "So I'm gay now, is that what you're telling me?" he asked Pansy.

Pansy flicked her hair over her shoulder. "Gay is all the rage right now, Draco, and it'll separate you from the rest of the crowd. Bringing attention to yourself isn't a bad thing, remember, especially since you've skipped every single one of these things. Plus, Blaise is very well-known now, and he's gorgeous to boot."

Blaise grinned at Pansy before placing a kiss on her cheek. "You always know how to get me," he replied. "Compliment me again. Go on."

"And exactly what is it that I've always skipped?" Draco interrupted before Parkinson could blush more and Zabini could grow a bigger head. He crossed his arms and glared at both of them, already trying to find an excuse in his head to not go.

"It's a congratulations ceremony for your book," Pansy replied. "They get less and less thrilled the more and more you aren't there. They threatened that if you didn't feel like showing up this time they'd stop even putting your book up for nomination, and you _know_ how bad _that_ would be for sales."

Draco's shoulders sagged; he _did_ know how bad that would be for sales, unfortunately enough.

" _So_ ," Pansy continued, feeling confident she finally had him. "We change your hair and eyes, we get you nice and dressed up for your first ball in over ten years, we put Blaise on your arm, and you'll be the talk of the town in no time."

Draco turned to Blaise this time. "And, exactly, what, pray tell, are _you_ so famous for?"

Blaise grinned, showing off some of his teeth. "I'm an Unspeakable now."

Draco's eyes widened, because, Blaise, who was never a Death Eater, but certainly thought of as one, should have never been able to join the Ministry of Magic, let alone the Department of Mysteries. Draco fell back into a sectional and ran a hand through his hair. "Things really have changed," he muttered.

Blaise flopped down right next to him on the couch, content to continue bragging. "Oh, it wasn't easy," he said, grinning from ear to ear. "But I am looked upon like a model citizen now. I'm even a part of the Wizengamot. And, I assure you, any party I show up to turns into quite the shindig."

Draco rubbed his head. "I don't even know what that means," he admitted. Did he even _want_ to know what a 'shindig' was?

"Blaise is quite the playboy," Pansy said, stooping to be more on Draco's level since he was on the couch and she was still standing. She gave him a copy of Witch Weekly with Blaise Zabini's face on the cover. "Just the fact that he's attending this thing with another male is going to cause an uproar. Then, he'll actually _leave_ with you, and that'll cause another one."

"Why the hell would I want to cause uproar?" Draco asked. He may have been resigned to the fate of having to go, but that didn't mean he had to strive to attract every single eye of the wizarding world. The Draco Malfoy in his Hogwarts days would have loved to do just that, but he wasn't that Draco Malfoy anymore. Nowadays he wasn't quite sure if he was even a whole person.

"Because," Pansy replied with a sigh, straightening back up and pacing between the two sectionals. "If we can cause a big enough uproar we probably won't have to worry about another one of these things for a couple of years. I know how you hate these things, Draco. I only have your best interests at heart."

Draco scoffed, he very much doubted that. Still, what she was saying _did_ make sense to him. He turned to shoot a look at Blaise, and then looked back at Pansy. "I haven't danced in over a decade," he admitted quietly.

* * *

Harry waved as he saw his two friends already sitting at a table and drinking some coffee. "Hey guys," he greeted as he came closer. "Long time no see." He smiled and tried to act as happy as he could, but ever since Ginny had left him there had been a distance between them. It felt like they had sided with Ginny, but never had the courtesy to tell him.

"Hello, Harry!" Hermione greeted warmly, standing up in order to give him a hug. "It's been too long!"

"Harry, mate," Ron said, following Hermione's example and standing up to embrace Harry. "How've you been?"

"Good," Harry answered, still maintaining his smile as he sat down with his friends. They both looked well. They seemed happy and healthy, so that was good. It also seemed as if they were living a life Harry could not touch. Hermione and Ron were adults now, with a child together and adult jobs and responsibilities. Harry was still stuck; waiting for the next adventure that never came. He had no wife to come home to at night, no kids to take care of, and work every day was long and boring. Hadn't he been looking forward to a normal life? A life without Voldemort breathing down his neck? Yet here he was, wishing he had more excitement in his life.

Hermione cocked her head at him. "You are taking care of yourself, right, Harry? It looks like you haven't been getting much sleep lately."

Harry smiled and nodded. Her concern was touching, but Harry was used to getting woken up by nightmares by now. The war, even years later, was something he didn't think he would ever be able to get past. But that wasn't something to annoy his friends with. Not when they were so happy in the lives they had carved out for themselves. "I'm fine, Hermione. I guess I've just been up late reading more often this week."

Hermione smiled, seeming pleased with his answer. "I know exactly how that is." She sipped at the coffee in front of her before continuing. "Anyway, Harry, what have you been up to? It seems as if we haven't seen each other in forever. How's work? Has it gotten any busier for you?"

Harry shook his head. "It's the same old thing," he complained. "A nine year old blowing up a chair, a vanishing cabinet running away from home, an owl attacking a muggle that tried to swat him." Harry allowed himself a sigh. "Honestly, I could use some entertainment," he admitted. "So, how about you two?" he asked, turning his attention to his friends instead of his melancholy mood. "Hopefully your lives are a bit more exciting than mine."

"Well, to be honest, Rose has been a nightmare with September coming up," Hermione admitted.

"It's always Hogwarts this and Hogwarts that," Ron picked up. "Basilisks and trolls and hippogriffs. She thinks she'll be fighting all of them as soon as she gets in the door." Ron laughed. "Seriously, mate, you really have to lay off all those stories you tell her of our school years." He picked a biscuit out of the basket in the middle of the table and stuffed it in his mouth.

"We're actually going to be getting a break in a little less than a week," Hermione said. "We've been invited to the book ceremony honoring Seth Snape. Rumor is he may even be there this time!"

Harry's stomach dropped at the mention of Snape. "Snape? Like, Snape's son or something? I didn't think he had any relatives."

"Oh, you know authors, it's probably just a pen name," Hermione replied. "But he really is a brilliant Potions Master. And he's so descriptive! He's so clear and concise even Rose can make some of them with her Children's Brewing Kit. I heard he's even helping Hogwarts with their textbooks this year. And, admittedly, I am debating on the idea of getting Rose one early, so she can have a head start."

Harry didn't answer. His head was reeling from the last name. Pen name? If it was just a pen name, why wouldn't they pick something better? It's true everyone knew Snape was good with potions, but, despite his name being cleared, he still wasn't a favorite among the wizarding populace. So, why on earth choose that name? Unless they had some kind of tie to Snape? And if they had some kind of connection to Snape, there was a chance they had been on Voldemort's side during the war.

"Maybe you should come, Harry," Ron suggested, looking towards Hermione for support.

"Of course," Hermione replied, nodding enthusiastically. "You really should get out of the house more, after all. And a lot of teachers from Hogwarts are going to be there to show their support. I'm sure you would appreciate seeing them again."

Harry, nodded, still not listening completely, but catching the gist. "Yeah, I'll go," he replied. He needed to know who this Snape was, and where his alliances lied. It wouldn't do to put the wizarding world in danger again.

* * *

TBC

Please leave me a review! I'd like to know everyone's opinions on this story.


	2. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco attend the awards ceremony.

 

Draco adjusted his blue tie in his mirror, cringing at his new brown hair and brown eyes. They really did not suit his pale complexion. In fact, neither did the blue tie. He looked at the clock, wondering if he had enough time to make another trait modifier, this one for his skin. He had maybe an hour before Parkinson saw herself through the floo. The potion took an hour and a half to make if he really pushed it.

He nodded to himself in the mirror, decision made. It was fashionable to be late, after all.

* * *

Harry quickly ran through all the clothes on hangers in his closet. He was starting to realize he didn't really own any nice clothes. Growing desperate he started to search the floor of his closet. Finally finding something adequate (even if it was a bit wrinkled), he threw on the nice button down shirt, not bothering to button it over the t-shirt he was already wearing.

Harry continued to search his closet floor, this time looking for shoes.

He ran a hand through his hair as he shot a look at the clock.

 _Shit_. Ron and Hermione would be here any minute.

He quickly resorted to throwing things out of his closet. He was about halfway done with cleaning out his closet when he heard the knock at the door.

He ran down the stairs, sans the shoes he couldn't find and his dress shirt still unbuttoned. He hadn't even thought about the tie yet. "I'm coming!" he shouted as he got to the landing.

He bolted towards the door and threw it open.

"Harry, mate," Ron said, looking him up and down. "Having some trouble getting ready, are you?"

Harry looked down at his shoeless feet and ran a hand through his uncombed hair. "I guess the time got away from me," he replied with a sheepish grin.

Hermione welcomed herself into his home. "You're impossible, Harry. Reading again, I suppose." She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows, letting him know that she wouldn't be taking that excuse this time around. She ushered Ron in before closing the door behind her, then looked Harry up and down. "Accio dress shoes," she said, waving her wand. A pair of dress shoes came flying down the stairs before setting themselves down by her feet.

Harry looked down at them before giving Hermione another sheepish grin. "Thanks, 'Mione." He slipped on his shoes and started to button up his shirt.

Hermione frowned when her attention was drawn to the shirt. "I swear, you forget you're a wizard most of the time," she muttered before waving her wand and fixing all the wrinkles in said shirt.

"Thanks, 'Mione," Harry said again, running a hand through his hair yet again.

"Where's your tie, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Have you picked one out yet?"

"Er … not yet," Harry admitted, albeit reluctantly. "Guess I hadn't gotten around to that part yet."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She waited until Harry finished doing up all his buttons before heading upstairs. "Come on, we can go pick one out for you."

* * *

Draco stood in front of the cauldron stirring the potion when he felt Parkinson come through the floo. He had maybe about five more minutes left on it. Then he would have to let it cool for five to ten minutes before he could drink it.

He turned towards the clock that hung on the wall he was facing. The party would start in about fifteen minutes. He would have to make a note of that: forty-five minutes to brew this potion if you had everything already precut and knew what you were doing. He leaked out a small smirk; he had managed to impress himself.

A house elf appeared beside him. "Miss Parkinson is here, sir. Shall Milford show her down?"

Draco nodded, barely paying any mind. The last bit here was the trick. If he reduced heat too soon he'd become paler than he was, but if he waited too long he'd turn orange. And orange was not a good color on him. It was all about the patterns the bubbles made; as soon as they changed he would have to take it off the heat.

"Draco!" Pansy's shrill voice called. Draco held back a flinch at the noise, not taking his eyes of the cauldron.

"Pray tell, _why_ , my darling Draco, are you brewing potions _now_?" Pansy asked as she walked down the basement stairs. "If you tell me you forgot about the ball tonight, so help me, I will _hurt_ you."

Draco looked up just long enough to notice Pansy's dress, then his eyes went right back to his cauldron; it wouldn't be long now. "A green sequin dress, Pansy? You look absurd. Did you not look in a mirror before you went out?"

"I look _brilliant_ , my darling," Pansy growled. "Would you like to fill me in on what potion is so important you have to be brewing it _now_? The party starts in ten minutes."

"It's fashionable to be late, my dear," Draco replied back. He noticed the change in the potion and completely turned off the heat.

" _Not_ for the main attraction, Draco," Pansy argued. Still, she decided not to push her luck further. Draco had called her by her first name, and _dear_ , on top of that; she didn't want to ruin his good mood. "Would you like to explain to me what this is?"

"It's a potion, Pansy." Draco picked up his wand and conjured a mirror in front of him as he started making sure his new brown hair was straight. "And I don't understand why you're yelling at me for being late; my date isn't even here yet." Done with his hair, he began to smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles in his shirt.

"Blaise should be here any minute," Pansy replied. "And you still don't even have shoes on. This is the first one you've ever been to; would it kill you to be on time?"

"And what, exactly, is your role at this … _party_ in my honor?" Draco sneered as he slipped on the shoes that were sitting at the end of his lab table. "Clearly you want everyone looking at you. _That_ much is obvious," he said, looking her green dress up and down. "The question is _why_."

Pansy crossed her arms. "When you sneer you look just like Snape. Don't tell me sharing his name has gone to your head."

Draco ignored her, instead checking in on the temperature of his potion. It still needed a few more minutes, but it wouldn't be long now.

"I'm the one presenting you to the public," Pansy replied, answering his question when it was apparent he wouldn't respond to her. "The great Seth Snape: Potion Master Extraordinaire! Do you really think I'd trust anyone else with that job? It's imperative the entire night goes off without a hitch, given that it takes so much goading just to get you out the door anymore."

Draco sneered again. He really wasn't looking forward to any of this. Still, the Malfoy fortune was lost to war reparations, and although he was quite wealthy, he was not wealthy enough to support himself for the rest of his life without some kind of income. If he lost this niche he really didn't know where else to turn. What other job could he get that allowed him to work on his own time and without ever leaving the house?

He looked up from the potion when he felt someone else come through the floo. "That'll be Blaise," he announced. "Go retrieve him, Parkinson."

Pansy sniffed, insulted by the command and disappointed in being called by her last name. This night wasn't going to go well at all if Draco was in a sour mood all night. "Isn't that what house elves are for?"

"I'd rather you gush all over him outside of my presence," Draco clarified. He gave the potion a stir, making sure it was cooled and settled.

"Hmph," was all Pansy replied with before turning on her heel and marching up the stairs.

* * *

"I wonder if he's already here," Hermione said, scanning the crowd for anyone who could be Seth Snape. "I wonder what he looks like." She spied a couple people that might've been him, as she didn't recognize them, but, of course, she wouldn't know for sure until the man himself had been presented.

Ron rolled his eyes and gave his wife's hand a squeeze. "I wish you would calm down. They always say he'll be here, but every time Parkinson just accepts his award on his behalf. You don't honestly believe this time will be any different, do you? Just relax and enjoy the party."

"Parkinson?" Harry asked, jerking himself out of his thoughts. "Why is she accepting his award?" Pansy Parkinson accepting an award for someone calling himself Snape? It had Slytherin written all over it.

"She's his editor and distributor," Hermione explained, still looking over the crowd. "She's been surprisingly very tight lipped about who Seth Snape may be. Astounding given how much she gossiped back in Hogwarts. Though I don't see her either. Usually she mingles before they have the ceremony." She turned to her husband. "Do you see her anywhere? It's odd for her to be late."

* * *

Draco smoothed out his dress robes in the VIP room as Pansy lectured him. The brown hair and eyes definitely looked better with the tanner complexion. Even Pansy had conceded that it had probably been worth the wait.

"Remember: be nice. No one's going to want to buy books from a grumpy person. And stay away from any personal information, like who you are or where you live. We can't have people trying to snoop on you and finding out the truth. Make sure to greet as many people as you can. Social is the name of the game, Seth, darling. And remember, you don't know _anyone_ here with the exception of Blaise and myself. If anyone asks, tell them Seth Snape is just a pen name, though it in no way ties to Severus Snape. You aren't comfortable disclosing your real name.  You're from America originally, though you grew up most of your life in Brazil before moving to Britain and taking up potions. Before that you were a cashier in an apothecary. Keep Blaise by your side at all times; he is your date, after all. And, for Merlin's sake, Seth, _please_ act the part. The better this ceremony goes the less likely you'll have to attend the next one."

Blaise slung an arm over Draco's shoulder and pecked him on the cheek. "Of course, Pansy, dear, we'll be on our best behavior. Fret not, love." He winked and blew her a kiss as Draco rolled his eyes.

"You two met through me, of course," Pansy continued, trying to get back to business while not being able to keep down the smile that came with being flirted with. "New relationship, since Blaise was seen with a woman less than a week ago. _Please_ act like it," she begged, looking towards Draco. "No one is going to believe that you're together if you're uptight all evening."

Draco clenched his jaw but forced himself to relax into Blaise. "And when can I leave this blasted place?"

Pansy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "You really don't make this easy on me, do you, Seth? First, I'll announce you to the world. I should be out there in about ten minutes. Then, you come out with Blaise and accept your award. You thank the public, get off the stage, make your rounds: sign some books, shake some hands, kiss some babies, avoid personal questions. Give me four hours of your time here and I promise I won't even _ask_ you if you want to come to the next one."

Draco sighed, but nodded. That was actually a pretty good offer in his mind; Pansy nagged like no one else.

"Excuse me, excuse me. If I could have everyone's attention!" a voice spoke out from all around them, echoing around the room they had to themselves.

Pansy's eyes widened. "Oooh, they're getting ready to announce! Okay, I'm going to go out there and announce you. Stand behind the curtain and wait until I raise it up. Remember, boys, drama is the name of the game here. We want this to be a memorable experience for everyone involved," she said before ushering both men out the door and to the staging area. She placed a hand on both their shoulders and slowly took a breath in and then out. "Okay," she smiled, "Big moment, my darlings."

"Without further ado," the faceless voice announced, "It is our pleasure to announce, that the reward for bestselling book of the year goes to the great Potions Master, Seth Snape!"

They could all hear the cheers from the crowd as Pansy stepped out from behind the curtains. The cheering immediately dulled, everyone assuming that Pansy Parkinson would, once again, be accepting the award on behalf of her author.

Blaise placed a hand in the middle of Draco's back and Draco immediately tensed up; he wasn't one for physical contact. He hadn't been a fan of it during school, and he certainly didn't like it after being away from everyone but Parkinson for over a decade.

"You really need to relax," Blaise whispered to him. "No one's going to believe I'm your romantic interest if you're always jumping every time I touch you. If I'm going out of my way to announce I'm bisexual then I want the relationship to be hot and steamy. It's no use if I'm not going to be getting any real publicity out of this."

Draco breathed out, willing his muscles to calm down. "This wasn't my idea," he grumbled. "I haven't had a significant other in years, and it's never been a man. Did both of you really think I'd just fall right into this role?"

" _Years_? Really? You poor man," Blaise replied. "No wonder you're so stressed all the time. I can have sex with you for real, if you want." Blaise slid his hand to Draco's ass. "You're long overdue, that's for damn sure."

" _No_ , thank you," Draco replied with a sneer, trying and failing to relax into the hand that was now on his ass. "I'm perfectly capable of … _relieving_ myself. I certainly don't need _your_ help, at any rate."

Blaise looked him up and down. "Well, maybe you don't need my help _relieving_ yourself. But you do certainly need some practice under your belt, especially if you haven't done anything like this before. I'll be damned if your first kiss with a man is in front of half a thousand people."

Draco's eyes widened; he had no idea so many people were going to be here. Trust Pansy to leave out important details.

"C'mon," Blaise demanded, pushing Draco up against him with the hand that was still resting on Draco's ass. He leaned up and kissed him on the lips as soon as their chests collided.

Draco jerked back for a second before easing into the kiss. Blaise had just managed to get his tongue into his mouth when the curtain went up.

* * *

"Excuse me, excuse me. If I could have everyone's attention!" a voice spoke out from all around them, echoing around the room they had to themselves.

Hermione immediately looked up to the stage, trying hard not to get giddy at the aspect of seeing the great potions master in person. Harry gave his whole attention to the stage as well, though for entirely different reasons. If this guy looked even reasonably suspicious Harry didn't have any problem detaining him for questioning. Ron, on the other hand, didn't even look at the stage. He was more than happy to keep his attention on his food. He had been dragged to enough of these things by Hermione to know that Seth Snape would never show up.

"Without further ado," the faceless voice announced, "It is our pleasure to announce, that the reward for bestselling book of the year goes to the great Potions Master, Seth Snape!"

Hermione and Harry both leaned forward, toward the stage, as the curtains moved and a person emerged. They both visibly wilted as Pansy walked out. Ron, however, kept right on eating.

"Hello! Hello!" Pansy's loud voice echoed over the crowd. "I know, I'm not who you were expecting … again."

That elicited some polite chuckles from the crowd.

"But, no fear, because Seth Snape _is_ here," she continued.

Even Ron perked up at that one. No, he hadn't thought he would show his face, but that didn't stop him from being interested.

"After several years of trying to get him to actually clear his busy schedule for one evening, I've finally succeeded," Pansy explained. "And I couldn't let the pleasure of this introduction go to someone else." She turned to the announcer. "My apologies, sir." Then she turned back to the audience, who were all eagerly waiting for Seth Snape to make his presence known. "This is truly a memorable day," Pansy said. "I couldn't let myself not be a part of it." She smiled before turning to the curtain. "But that's enough talking. Ladies and gentlemen, I am very pleased to announce the prized author and potions master: Seth Snape, alongside his date for the night: Blaise Zabini!"

Gasps could be heard across the crowd as the curtain rose on Blaise Zabini making out with the person who could only be Seth Snape.

Draco pulled back as soon as he was aware that they were not alone. His eyes widened as he came face to face with the hundreds of people staring at him with open mouths. He thanked Merlin that he had decided on going with a darker complexion; his pale skin would have let everyone know just how embarrassed this situation made him. Thankfully a blush is harder to detect on darker skin.

He coughed into his hand, took a step away from Blaise, and cast the spell to make his voice heard over the crowd. And, although it had been over a decade since Draco had spoken at a formal party, that didn't mean he didn't know what to do. Some things were just drilled into your head when you were a Malfoy. "Blaise Zabini, ladies and gentleman; he's quite the kisser," he told the crowd as Blaise took a bow.

That got some chuckles out and shut almost all the open mouths. Draco snuck a glance to Pansy on his left, followed by a glance at Blaise on his right. They were both positively beaming.

 _Fuckers planned this,_ he thought to himself, a bit insulted, but not surprised.

"Well, it is nice to finally meet some of my readers," Draco continued on. "I am quite pleased so many people share my interest in potions. Unfortunately, I am kept very busy by my occupation, so I find myself leaving the house less and less as time goes by. I'm glad to have the chance to finally attend an award ceremony for myself. Thank you all for coming, and thank you all for the appreciation." He gave a tight smile before grabbing the trophy from the announcer, snatching Blaise's hand, and walking them both off stage.

In the middle of the audience Hermione shoved her plate at Ron and quickly made her way through the crowds, eager to be one of the first to meet the great Seth Snape.

Harry followed closely behind her. First Pansy Parkinson and then Blaise Zabini? His instincts were screaming that this person wasn't who everyone thought he was. And Harry was determined to find out what, exactly, was the guy's plan.

* * *

"You're going to pay for that one," Draco growled before they got off the stage.

Blaise just beamed at him and squeezed his hand. "Yeah? Does that mean there's a spanking in my future?" He let his other hand caress Draco's ass. "You know just what I like, baby."

Draco tried not to tense up as they got closer to the stairs leading to the now swarming crowds of people. He cleared his throat and tried his best to make sure his smile didn't form into a grimace.

"Now, now," he spoke loudly to the crowd. "I never realized what an honor it was to be showing up with Mr. Zabini. Unfortunately, he is my date for the evening, so if everyone would kindly leave their come ons for tomorrow night, I would greatly appreciate it."

The crowd chuckled, but didn't pull back any.

Blaise turned to Draco and smiled at him, glad he seemed to be taking this all in with grace. He had been worried, especially when Pansy had talked him into the kiss on curtain pull. He leaned in and pecked Draco on the cheek. "I'm sure I could say the same thing of you, Seth, darling. You are absolutely delectable this evening."

"Now, now," Pansy's voice said from behind them. She pushed between them and walked right into the mob of people. "How do you expect him to answer any questions if you insist on frightening him?" She pushed through the people until a gap formed. "I'm sure you all know how often Mr. Snape shows up to these things. I won't have you scaring him off the next one."

Blaise made sure to reconnect their hands before following behind Pansy. When Draco seemed to be leaning in a bit more than usual he put his hand across his shoulders. Perhaps Pansy wasn't exaggerating when she told the crowd not to frighten Draco.

"Relax," Blaise whispered into his ear as they pushed through the crowd. "You used to love this kind of stuff, remember?"

" _Used_ to, yes," Draco whispered back. "Several years locked in my own house got me out of _that_ habit." He smiled and shook hands with some people that had pushed right in front of him, accepting their congratulations with a nod of his head. "I'm not the same person I used to be," he muttered.

"I know," Blaise replied, still talking softly and making sure to maintain the smile on his face. "It's made you very dull. Not that you were much better at Hogwarts; you were a huge prude."

"Shut _up_ , Blaise," Draco snapped as they came upon the golden trio. Potter was looking at him suspiciously already, and he hadn't even said anything yet. He unconsciously took a step back.

"Seth Snape," Hermione greeted with a smile and outstretched hand. "It's such an honor finally meeting you. I was starting to think you might be a ghost."

Draco forced himself to smile back as he grasped her hand. "I daresay it'd be incredibly hard to write anything without the ability to pick up corporeal objects."

Hermione laughed as they shook hands. "Yes, I suppose it would make things difficult for you. I'm so glad you could finally make it. I'd love to discuss some of your Potions theory if you ever have a free moment. Your thoughts on wolfsbane are particularly intriguing."

"Yes, well, so far it's been working far better in theory than in practice," Draco replied as he took his hand back. "I've yet to find the right reactant for it, I'm afraid."

"So, Seth Snape," Harry said, taking a step closer to him. He was glaring as he caught his eye. "Any relation to Severus Snape?"

"That's just a pen name, Potter," Pansy said from behind Potter. She had doubled back as soon as she had realized that Blaise and Draco were no longer following her. She matched Potter's glare as he turned to face her. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't try intimidating my star author with whatever absurd miscalculations are going on in that plebian head of yours."

Hermione's eyes widened as she turned around towards Pansy as well. "Harry didn't mean anything by that!" she said, putting her hands in front of her. "He wasn't trying to be insulting!"

"I just thought it was a little odd to pick a pen name after a dead deatheater," Harry replied, his glare still in place as he looked towards Draco. "You couldn't have possibly picked it because you thought it would help you sell books."

Draco forced himself to relax and calm down, but he couldn't be sure how effective it was. He had an intense urge to punch Potter right in his over-glorified face for even _talking_ about Severus Snape. At the same time his stomach clenched in worry over the fact that Potter had found him out so easily. 

Draco forced on a smile. "I'm afraid that was a lack of research on my part. I'm from America originally, you see, and had no idea of any nasty war business or the … unfortunate feelings my pen name creates in some, until my darling editor enlightened me. Still, by that point I already had a few published works running around in America that I didn't want to separate myself from, so I kept it. A bit pompous on my part, I suppose, now that I think on it."

The back story would hold up, Draco knew. He had, after all, originally only published in the Americas until Pansy had finally convinced him otherwise. He was tremendously glad he had too, as Potter would no doubt be fact checking, no matter how well Draco might have sold it.

He held out his hand to Potter. "I do apologize if the name brings up bad memories for you. I assure you I meant no offense."

Draco tried not to snarl as Potter glared a second longer before stomping off. That was the second time Potter had refused to shake his hand, and it annoyed him how bothered about the whole thing he was.

"I … I am so sorry about him," Hermione apologised as she turned from watching Harry walk off back to Seth Snape. "Harry's … well, I'm afraid Harry's still a little too caught up in the war."

Draco was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to reply. Who the hell had invited Harry fucking Potter anyway? As if the crowds and the secret identity weren't enough to get his blood pressure up. Now he had to deal with Potter watching him like a hawk all night?

"Don't let it offend you too much, Seth, sweetie," Blaise said with a smile, putting an arm around Draco's waist. "He was always like that at school, too; running around and accusing good people of doing dreadful things."

Draco frowned at his friend. Blaise was trying to cause an incident, he knew it. He also knew there was a high chance the only reason Blaise was goading them was to cast Potter in a bad light. And while the old Draco would have been the front runner in festivities such as these, the present Draco was a lot more concerned about getting home before someone realized who he was and decided to have him lynched.

"If I remember correctly, Harry never accused the wrong people," Ron snapped, jumping to his friend's defense and talking around the food in his mouth. "Just the right ones who were too wily to get caught."

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes even wider as she turned to face her husband. They were going to cause an incident! And then Seth Snape would never come back out in public! "School was a long time ago! There's no need to-!"

"Clearly you _aren't_ remembering correctly," Blaise interrupted. He stepped away from Draco to take a few steps closer to Weasly. "Though I am unpleasantly surprised to learn that time never exaggerated your utter disgust and social inadequacy."

"Blaise," Draco hissed, he glared as soon as their eyes connected before forcing another smile to his face. "I didn't agree to a date just so you could insult all my fans. Was Pansy's information wrong when she told me you're a charmer?"

"Of course not, darling," Blaise replied, matching his smile as he brought Draco's hand up to his mouth to kiss it. "Forgive me, mon amour. I'm afraid the past is a touchy subject for me, as well."

After that the rest of the ceremony was a downhill battle. Draco shook hands, forced smiles, and thanked every single person he came across. It wasn't the most pleasant experience by any means, but he got through it.

And if Potter's glare followed him everywhere that just meant that Potter was being paranoid. He surely couldn't have figured anything out just by _looking_ at him, could he?

TBC

Thanks for reading! Don't forget to review!


	3. The Assassination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The action that Harry has been eagerly awaiting.

 

"You're here early, aren't you?" Harry's auror partner asked as soon as he walked into his office and saw Harry stooped over some files. He took a sip of his tea before striding over to Harry's desk and looking over his shoulder at the files. "Seth Snape?" he asked, looking over at Harry.

Harry nodded at Dean Thomas, but didn't bother to look up from his files. "It's an odd name, don't you think? Pansy said it was a pen name. Who would choose that name? Even people who used to be Death Eaters are trying to get as far away from their past as humanly possible. This guy … it's like …" Harry finally looked up from his files to catch Dean's eye. "It's like he's _embracing_ it."

Dean shrugged before going over to his own desk and slumping down. "I don't know. I don't follow the guy. Still, we haven't seen any Death Eater activity in over five years. Even if this guy somehow had a connection to Snape, that doesn't mean it's Death Eater related."

"You think someone actually liked Snape enough to create a pen name after him? Doubtful," Harry grumbled before diving back into the files in front of him. "There's something there, Dean. I know it."

"You sure this isn't just you trying to find some excitement?" Dean asked. "I know you've been restless, especially lately. Maybe you're just trying to see something that isn't there. All of his books have been Ministry-approved; not a single dark potion among the hundreds he's researched."

"So maybe it's something else then," Harry replied, his attention still lost in the file. "Like, maybe his books have some sort of code to them? To get messages to other Death Eaters?"

" _What_ other Death Eaters, Harry?" Dean snapped, rolling his eyes. At first he had been ecstatic to learn that Harry was going to be his auror partner. Then he started to work with him. Harry was the type to always look for a plot. He always thought something else was going on behind the scenes. The more and more he was wrong the more and more despondent he became. "You're cracking up."

That made Harry finally look up. "Not you too," he said, frowning. "I have a feeling here, Thomas. The guy was acting shifting the whole time at his awards ceremony. He's gotta be hiding something."

"Right. Nothing to do with the fact that the guy hasn't been seen out in public, oh … _ever in his_ _ **entire**_ _life_ ," Dean snapped back. He rolled his eyes as he forced himself to calm down. Dealing with Harry through anger was never a good approach. "Research the guy all you want; I won't stop you." He picked up a file and threw it over to Harry's desk. "But work is for work, and we've got things to do that don't involve Death Eaters masquerading as hermit-authors."

Harry reached for the file and tried his best to hold back a sigh when he saw that they were going to help rescue a muggle babysitter who was being chased by a teddy bear.

* * *

"You worry much too much, Draco," Pansy scolded as sat on Draco's couch and sipped at her tea.

"No, Pansy, I worry just the right amount," Draco snapped back. He was pacing back and forth in front of his childhood friend, occasionally stopping to run his hands through his hair. "Did you see his face last night? He _knew_ , Pans! I know he did!" He scrunched his face up, as if the thought alone brought him pain.

If she was being addressed as 'Pans' then Draco was very emotional, indeed. Still, she hid her surprise and put her nose in the air. It wouldn't do to indulge her friend's paranoia. "I don't know who you're talking about or what this person knows," she insisted. "But if you're trying to get out of going to the next ceremony you don't have to bother. I already told you that you could skip the next one."

Draco ran his hands through his hair again as he turned towards his editor. "This isn't about the next fucking _ceremony_ , you dunce. This is about _Harry fucking Potter_ knowing who I _am_!"

Pansy calmly took another sip of her tea. "Oh, please, Draco. He had no idea. He was just caught up because of your pen name." She put her tea down on the inn table and walked over to Draco. She put her hands on his shoulders and guided him over to the couch before continuing on. "Word around the Ministry is that the golden boy's finally cracked. Keeps seeing Death Eater threats that don't exist. Is constantly on the lookout for conspiracies. He's been crying werewolf for _years_ now."

Draco ran a hand through his hair yet again, except this time he was breathing a little easier. He looked up at Pansy from his hunched over position on the couch. "He's cracked, you say?"

Pansy nodded as she sat down next to her best friend. "Yes, dear. He's an absolute nutcase now. The only reason he's still working for the Ministry is because they're afraid of the bad publicity it'd cause if they fired him. Even if he knew for a fact who you were, no one would believe him."

Harry Potter had cracked. That alone was enough to give Draco's anxiety pause. The great wizard, the supposed "savior" of the wizarding world was finally being seen for what he was: an absolute and utter nutcase. If only people had seen it sooner. If everyone knew Harry was a loon during school Draco could have gotten along a lot better. Maybe he would have made better choices without the golden boy around to always propel him in the opposite direction. Maybe it wouldn't have taken him so long to see the error of his ways. Or maybe he wouldn't have even _had_ to see the error of his ways.

Draco frowned at that thought. Probably best if he didn't go down _that_ path. It was pretty sinister. And all in all it was probably for the best that Draco had seen the error of his ways. He had been an angry little shit back in school. He was a lot calmer now. Though whether he was a lot calmer because he no longer had anyone around to annoy him or if it was because he was a happier individual he couldn't really be sure.

" _Draco!_ Are you even listening to me?"

Draco jerked slightly as he was pulled from his thoughts to see Pansy standing right in front of him, hands on her hips and looking cross. "Of course, Pansy, darling," he answered, schooling his expression into one of indifference. "I just didn't care about it."

"You're an ass," Pansy snapped before turning away. "You fret for _hours_ about how Harry Potter's figured you out, and the second I give you reassurances that he hasn't you zone out. You're impossible."

Draco smirked at her. "Impossible and yours, my dear."

* * *

It was several hours later that they finally received the news they were waiting for.  It was a much longer wait than Draco had prepared for, and he loudly moaned the loss of his Potions research time.

"You're practically forcing me to to lose money, Parkinson!" Draco snapped, no longer emotional and more than annoyed enough to call her by her surname. "You're supposed to be my editor! Correct me if I'm wrong, but I was under the impression that it meant you were supposed to be helping me get _more_ money, not lose it."

"If everything goes right then we'll both be getting a great _mountain_ of money, my dear. You have yet to appreciate how popular Blaise has become," Pansy replied before frowning. "I'll chalk your ignorance up to the fact that you _never_ leave the house."

"And we both know the why behind _that_ , don't we?" Draco snapped right back. He had resumed his pacing from earlier. While Blaise's tardiness had helped him tremendously the night before, today he wanted to strangle him for it.

"Draco, _please_ for once in your life can you listen to me? There's no sense making a potion if you're going to have to be pulled away from it before it's finished. You'll be angrier than you already are; I've witnessed it firsthand," Pansy said before striding over towards him and directing him back towards the couch. "Can you just relax for once in your life? All you ever do is work. It's quite annoying, if you're asking me to be honest."

"I've never once asked you to be honest," Draco grumbled. Still, he allowed himself to be pulled onto the couch, and he tried his best to get his mind off all the time that was passing him by.

"You're an impossible man, you know that?" Pansy huffed, hands on her hips as she looked down at him. "Can you just trust me for once, darling? This is important."

"Oh, and my potion making isn't important then?" Draco snapped back. He leaned forward on the couch, but didn't get up.

"You can be such a child sometimes, you know that? You had a much better grasp on how everything works back in school," Pansy replied, frowning at her friend before turning away and starting to pace. "Potions aren't everything, you know. It's the publicity that really gets the job done. You get people talking and they'll buy anything of yours just to say they have it."

"So I might as well just give up creating new potions and instead start publishing books about how to get into Blaise Zabini's pants, shall I?" Draco asked as his fireplace flared to life.

"I wouldn't bother with that, my darling Draco," Blaise said, a huge grin on his face as he stepped out of the fireplace and threw a handful of magazines onto his friend's coffee table. "After the absolute mayhem you helped me cause last night I'm not going to have eyes for anyone but you for a long time." He strode over to Pansy and picked her up, spinning her around. "And this wonderful woman right here? A magnificent genius! Pure and simple!"

Draco leaned over to look at the top magazine. ' **Blaise Zabini Finally Settling Down?'** read the first one. He scoffed as he looked through the rest. ' **Seth Snape Makes An Appearance With Playboy Blaise Zabini', 'Zabini and Snape Cause An Uproar', 'Blaise Zabini: Gay?'.** "This is the type of rubbish that passes for news these days?" Draco asked, finally getting up from the couch to get away from the magazines. "I think I'm glad I've been confined to my home all these years."

" _Self-confinement_ , you mean," Pansy corrected as Blaise set her down.

"Something that _must_ change, Draco, darling," Blaise said, picking up the first magazine and shoving it under Draco's nose. "Look at these. I haven't been this popular since I accepted the job as an Unspeakable. This is absolutely brilliant!"

Draco ripped the magazine away from his friend and threw it into his fireplace. "It's absolute rubbish is what it is. You two are making me into a laughing stock!"

"Accio magazine," Blaise said, fanning the fires away from the magazine as it was pulled from the fire. "We're making you into a household name, Draco!" he said, frowning at the damage that had been done to the pages in front of him. "Think about how many more books you could sell if your name was on everyone's lips."

"The numbers will speak for themselves," Pansy spoke up, hands on her hips as she glared at her stubborn author. "Give it a week or two, and we'll compare book sales. You'll thank us for this, darling."

"This ploy at being famous isn't going to get us anywhere," Draco argued. "I create potions for a living! My readers don't care about who's shagging who, Parkinson. They're scholars, for Merlin's sake."

Pansy rolled her eyes. Honestly, after all this time as his editor she would have thought some sort of trust would have developed. "Give it a month, Draco. If your book sales don't double I'll leave it alone. But if they _do_ …"

Blaise swung his arm around Draco. He smirked. "That's when the real fun can begin, eh, Pans?"

* * *

A month later Harry Potter was pouring over the same magazines that had been on Draco's coffee table. He had been looking at them all month. Trying to find some personal information about Seth Snape that didn't turn into a dead end. It was true he had published in America before coming to Britain. It was also true that Pansy Parkinson had been his editor throughout the course of his pen name. So, if he had been born in America exactly when had he met Parkinson? As far as he could find she had only ever made trips to America _after_ Seth Snape had started publishing.

"You still looking through those gossip magazines?" Dean Thomas asked as he walked into their office holding a manila folder in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. "Give it a rest, will ya? People are starting to think you're cracking up, you know. And anyway," he said, dropping the folder on top of all the magazines scattering his partner's desk, "we've got real work to do."

Harry glared up at his friend for the interruption before flipping open the folder that was now in front of him. "The Bulstrodes?" he asked, looking back up at Dean. "They were pardoned after the war, weren't they?"

Dean rolled his eyes, but he was fighting a smirk. "Yeah, I thought you'd latch onto that pretty fast. But calm down, killer, and keep reading. They aren't suspected of anything; we're just doing a light house call. They were supposed to attend a Gala last night and never showed. Apparently it's very unlike them."

"What kind of Gala?" Harry asked, finally rising out of his seat. He took the folder and strode out the door, Dean following close behind as he kept reading.

"Nothing Death Eater related, Mr. Paranoid," Dean replied, putting a hand on his partner's shoulder and steering him out of the way of a concrete post. "It was Ministry funding. Completely on the up and up."

"Maybe that's why they didn't show up," Harry muttered under his breath.

Dean rolled his eyes again. It was hard not to with a partner like Harry. "Or maybe they just drank too much the night before and slept through it. Or maybe they forgot about it altogether. Or maybe they only accepted the invitation to be polite and never intended to show up in the first place. Let's just get to the apparition point and ask them, shall we?"

Harry finally glanced up from the files to frown at his partner. "You have to admit that this is a little fishy."

"Fishy how?" Dean snapped back. "Fishy, like, Seth Snape has been around for years, finally makes a public appearance, and then a month later a pardoned Death Eater family skips a Gala? Sounds more like you're trying a find a cause and effect that doesn't exist. Or trying to find hidden motives behind innocent acts. You really miss the war that much, Harry?"

Harry's frown deepened as his feet tripped him up. He quickly recovered. "Of course I don't, Dean. It's just …" His brows furrowed as he handed the manila folder off to his partner and stepped up to the apparition point.

The bright halls of the Ministry were quickly replaced with an overcast road leading up to an even drearier looking mansion. And Harry quickly picked up his triade as Dean appeared on his right side.

"It just doesn't make any sense that someone … some potions master would pick up the name Snape. Even if he didn't know Snape (which seems unlikely), surely Parkinson would have told him when she became his editor? And of all the first names he could have picked … Seth? … Appointed by? Surely that wasn't just a coincidence."

"Harry, mate," Dean sighed as he walked up to the dreary mansion. "Give it a rest, yeah? You said it's been his pen name since Parkinson's been his editor. So maybe she picked it out. Mate wanted to be anonymous, Parkinson suggested the name, and he didn't know enough to say no. Where are the holes in that theory?"

"Parkinson willingly named someone as 'Appointed by Snape'? That seems pretty disrespectful, don't you think? Especially if the guy had never met Snape in his life. Is it a joke to play on people? Or to play on this Seth guy? Did Parkinson not think he was going anywhere and slapped an offensive pen name on him?"

"I don't know, Harry," Dean sighed as they approached the door. He arched an eyebrow at his partner. "But can we drop it until this case is settled? Or for another month so my sanity doesn't break? Seth Snape hasn't been seen since his awards ceremony. And since then he's published another book _and_ is helping Hogwarts up their Potions curriculum. You really think he has time to be running around in the shadows and doing …" He frowned before knocking on the door in front of him. He turned towards Harry. "Exactly what is it that you think he's doing, again?"

"I told you: I don't _know_!" Harry snapped as he turned to face his partner head on. "Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I just know he's not who he says he is! And I expected _you_ of all people to believe me! Remember Hogwarts? When I was dubbed crazy multiple times a year just to end up right in the end? You think this is different? Not to mention the fact that you're supposed to be my partner!"

"Harry, these are different times, god damn it!" Dean argued back, just as loud. "There are no more crazy warlords trying to kill half our population! No one's hiding in the woodwork anymore. _You_ made sure of that!" Dean sighed as he forced the glare off his face. "And you raising red flags all over the place?" he asked, now speaking in a quieter voice. "That's just making people think that you wanna bring the dark times back. No one wants to hear it, okay, mate?"

"So just because people find it unpleasant I'm supposed to ignore it?" Harry asked, not bothering to drop his own volume. "What if that had happened during Hogwarts? Just because people find it unpleasant doesn't mean it's not happening!"

"I know that!" Dean yelled back. "I lived through it too, remember? But just because you think something's off or someone's doing something doesn't mean you need to alert everyone to it, okay? You need to gather evidence so the dots connect! You can't just go around accusing people of things you have no proof on!"

"So what am I supposed to do? If I hadn't acted on hunches before we wouldn't be here right now! We'd either be dead or answering to Voldemort!"

Dean couldn't stop himself from flinching at the name, even after all this time. "I know that, okay, Harry?" he said quietly, looking around them. "Could you calm down, please? You're going to alert the whole neighborhood at the rate you're going."

Harry frowned at him before looking ahead to the door in front of them. "That's a good point, actually," he said, his voice now a lot more even. "Why do you think no one's come to the door? Surely they would have heard us by now?"

Dean matched his partner's frown, but pointed it at the door. "Yeah, that is odd. Maybe they went out of town?"

Harry tried the door to find it unlocked. "No wards," he told his partner, brows furrowed. "Be on your guard."

Dean nodded before drawing his wand and following in behind Harry. "Mister and Missus Bulstrode!" he called in a loud voice. "We're arurors from the Ministry! Some of your neighbors were worried concerning your whereabouts! We mean you no harm! But your door was open, so we're coming in!"

Harry glanced around the entrance before advancing on a crouch, his wand in front of him. "Mister and Missus Bulstrode! Please answer for your own safety!" he warned. As soon as he turned the corner to the main living room his wand dropped.

In front of him were three bodies. Above them in their blood read 'For He Who Betrays Shall Not Live'.

"So, this would be considered evidence, yeah?" Harry asked as soon as Dean stopped beside him.

"Hey, I never said that you were wrong that something was going on, mate," Dean answered, dropping his own wand. "I'll call it in. You comb the rest of the house."

TBC

* * *

 

A/N:

Thank you all for the reviews and kudos!  Please keep it up!  Haha.  

I'm having a good time with this story, and I hope everyone's enjoying it as much as I am.   

 


	4. The Suspect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry already knows who did it. Open and shut case, right?

 

"For he who betrays shall not live," Harry mumbled under his breath for what could have possibly been the thousandth time. He looked across the two desks in the room to make eye contact with his partner. "So definitely Death Eater related." He looked back down at the file on his desk and frowned. "The Bulstrodes didn't out anyone we didn't already know about though. And Millicent didn't give out any names at all; she was acquitted since all the crimes she committed happened while she was still a minor," he said. "That's what I can't understand. Who did they betray? Their case revolved around them proving their innocence, not throwing other people under the bus."

"So maybe whoever did this had more of an issue with the fact that they were trying to distance themselves from the cause," Dean suggested, looking down at the replicated file Harry had spent the last twenty-four hours smitten with. "It wasn't about selling out their … colleagues, but rather the fact that they stopped fighting for them?"

"Definitely a possibility," Harry agreed, nodding his head as he reread every detail the Ministry could find on the life of the Bulstrodes.

"But whether that's the actual motive or not it still raises the question of who the perp is," Dean said. "All the Death Eaters from back then are either reformed or captive. And the Ministry's been keeping tabs on all of them. We have no suspect."

That made Harry finally look up from his paperwork. "No suspect? I've got the perfect one: Seth Snape," he told his partner. "Or is the Ministry keeping tabs on him and I just didn't know?"

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Honestly, he had heard more than he had ever wanted to about Seth Snape for the last damn month. "One, as far as we know, Seth Snape is not, nor has ever been a Death Eater. Two, Seth Snape is a pen name. The Ministry has no data on who he is, and, therefor, he has no file. Makes him kind of hard to research, doesn't it?"

"And have we resorted to _only_ looking through files now? Did we become pencil pushers and I just never got the memo?" Harry asked, getting up from his seat and heading out the door. "The truth is out there. It just requires a little field work to find."

"I don't think quoting the X-Files helps in your efforts to prove to everyone that you aren't off your rocker," Dean told him, following behind.

Harry smirked, glad that Dean had gotten the muggle joke, and that it had distracted him enough not to argue about-

"More to the point though, you can't just go around interrogating Snape's colleagues. Something like this requires Ministry approval."

So he got a little overly optimistic in thinking Dean could be distracted. Still, Harry held on to his smirk.

"You think something like this is liable to get Ministry approval?" Dean asked when Harry didn't slow his pace. "Because I'm thinking it won't. Especially since Seth Snape is a household name these days. How do you expect to convince them?"

"I'm not going to convince them of anything," Harry replied as they both stepped into the alleyway that was essentially the back door into the Ministry of Magic. "This isn't going to be an interrogation. Ergo, no Ministry approval needed."

"Oh? Renaming what an interrogation is? What's it called now then?"

"We're just visiting some old school chums."

"On Ministry time we're going to visit some mates from our rival house? Yeah, real believable that," Dean said, frowning at his partner. "If you get me written up again, Harry-"

That made Harry's smirk drop and his brow furrow as he looked at his friend. "We aren't going to get written up, Dean. Call this a lunch break. None of this is going to go into the report."

"If you insist on ruining my lunch break then you're the one buying the food," Dean bargained, his step unfaltering as he crossed his arms over his chest.

* * *

Pansy Parkinson smirked as she read over the figures of Seth Snape's book sales. Overall, they were up one-hundred-and-sixteen percent, and had almost doubled the sales of every single one of his books, even those that had been out for years already. There was absolutely no way that Draco could spin it that would get him out of the plans she and Blaise had put together. She was going to be the most known editor of the century at the rate this was going.

One appearance of Seth Snape and Blaise Zabini together and a month later the world was _still_ speculating, even after Draco had disappeared again. Blaise kept insisting to the media that he and Seth were still seeing each other, and he had yet to be seen with another woman. That alone kept all the gossipers entranced. Pansy had to hire another secretary just to field the phone calls that had been coming in. Invitations to both Blaise and Seth to come to this dinner or that party. She had her pick now,which was simply fantastic, because Blaise and Seth's next appearance together had to be extravagant.

She was thinking tuxedos and limousines. Very mugglish, which was unfortunate, but it would help distance Draco from the ridiculous pen name he had insisted on.

Honestly, thanks to that name it had taken her _years_ to find a publishing house in Britain willing to print his works.

And limousines were probably the most extravagant travel accessory, besides maybe a dragon. A dragon would be a PR nightmare if it got out of control though. And all the flash photography that would be going on would definitely rattle the poor thing. So there would definitely be no dragon. Plus, the price to rent a dragon was horrendous after you factored in all the handler fees, not that Draco couldn't afford it, of course.

Pansy frowned before shaking her head. Was she convincing herself to rent a dragon? All this popularity was really getting to her head, it seemed. Not that it _shouldn't_ , of course. But there was a fine line between 'extravagant' and 'gaudy', and riding a dragon to a Gala was definitely crossing into the 'gaudy' category.

"Miss Parkinson?" a small blonde female asked quietly. Her head poked in through the door as she bit her lip.

"What?" Pansy snapped, causing the smaller girl to flinch. "Didn't I tell you not to come in here? I am not to be disturbed today!"

"Y-yes, Miss Parkinson, but I have-"

"You see, now that has me confused," Pansy said, suddenly calm. She stood and walked around her desk, advancing on the girl who had now backed up enough to no longer be in her office. "Because if you understood me then you wouldn't have come in in the first place, now would you?" She glared at her assistant before snapping, "Unless you _did_ understand and came into my office _specifically_ to tick me off."

"I'm afraid I'm the reason she disturbed you," Harry Potter interrupted with a smile. "I insisted."

Pansy's glare darkened as her focus shifted to the two aurors who were now outside her office. "Well, Potter, this office, much like real life, fortunately, does _not_ bend to your will. In fact, this _particular_ office" she said, turning to her assistant, "is meant to bend to _mine_. So, when I say that I don't want any disturbances I expect there to be no disturbances. Not by reporters, nor an earthquake, nor _Harry Bloody Potter_."

Well, now she was beginning to sound like Draco.

She turned back to Potter after putting the fear of You-Know-Who into her assistant. Really, the poor girl needed to be fired for the mistake, but the book sales had made Pansy happy enough to ignore the single slight. She rose a single eyebrow at Potter as she got back to business. "Ministry business, I assume?" Pansy ran her eyes over the Auror robes both Harry Potter and Dean Thomas were wearing. "Auditing me, perhaps?"

Dean Thomas' hands rose up as he tried to smile at her. Pansy would classify the facial expression under the 'wince' category. "Absolutely not Ministry business," he announced. "Harry and I were just out and about for lunch and-"

"If it's not Ministry business then I'm not interested," Pansy answered, turning back around to walk into her office.

Harry reached forward to grab her arm. "You might want to rethink that, Parkinson. We have some questions for you."

Pansy wasted no time ripping her arm away from Potter. "So which is it then? Is this Ministry business or not?"

"It's-"

"Who's Seth Snape?" Harry interrupted before his partner could clarify exactly what type of business they were conducting.

Pansy smirked as she visibly relaxed and put a hand on her hip. "I hadn't had you pegged for a fanboy, Potter. Though I suppose I should have guessed after you refused to take your eyes off him during his award ceremony." Her smirk widened as Thomas shot Potter a dark look. "Not sure if you read the papers, Potter, but Mr. Seth Snape is currently in a very happy, very monogamous relationship with a Mr. Blaise Zabini. He's not interested in a date."

"A little suspicious that they know each other, isn't it?" Harry said, glaring at the editor.

"Suspicious, _how_ , exactly?" Pansy asked, raising one eyebrow as she moved to cross her arms. "Maybe you forgot since your last trip to the mental ward, but Blaise and I were in the same house in the same year at Hogwarts. And I am Seth's editor. Most people's common sense would point them to the correct conclusion that I had introduced the two."

"And they immediately hit it off and started dating, did they?" Harry snapped right back.

Pansy blinked at him. "Yes, Potter, that is normally what two people do when they like each other. Have you not experienced it before?"

"Blaise is a known playboy. You expect me to believe that he suddenly gave all that up to be with someone who's never seen in public?" Harry asked, giving Dean a quick look before focusing back on Pansy.

The editor sighed. "Yes, that is what I'm saying. Thanks for reiterating for me. Look, Potter, as exciting as this particular conversation is, I really don't have time for it. So if you're here on Ministry business I want to see the proper forms. And if you're here trying to fulfill your fanboy fantasies then I'm going to have to call in some aurors that are _actually_ on duty so they can escort you off my premises." She looked between the two before turning around and stepping back into her office. "Good day, gentlemen," she said before slamming the door on them.

* * *

"Would you get off me, Zabini!" Draco snapped, pushing his friend onto the couch.

His friend just smirked up at him. "Forceful, Draco. I like this side of you.." He licked his lips. "Come and take whatever you want from me, big man. I'm your willing slave."

Draco immediately turned to Pansy. "Okay, if that's how he's going to insist on talking while we're in public the deal is completely off the table."

"The deal can't be off the table, Draco. It was a bet," Pansy reminded him. "I won, ergo, you do what I say now." She strode over to the couch and pulled Blaise off of it. "Besides, he's kidding. Remember when things used to be funny, Draco?"

"Can't say I do. Was that before or after a mad man moved into my house and started torturing me?"

"Most decidedly before," Blaise put in happily as he adjusted his robes. "A fact that will remain a fact for as long as you stay locked in your house and dwelling on the past."

"Are we really talking about my mental health right now?" Draco asked as Blaise put his arms around his neck. "If you are so concerned perhaps you could stop giving me a heart attack by grabbing me!" he snapped, tearing away from his friend.

Blaise was less than deterred. "So hot I stop your heart, babycakes?" he asked, winking at Draco. "I've had the same problem with someone else before, if I'm being completely honest. There's nothing to worry about. Turns out I'm sexy enough to _restart_ hearts as well."

"You sound like a member of a crappy preteen band," Draco said, glaring at his friend.

"And _you_ sound like someone most decidedly _not_ in love," Pansy broke in. "You need to relax, Draco. No one's going to believe you've been going out with Blaise for a month if you're constantly jumping every time he touches you."

"Very true," Blaise said, putting his index finger on his chin. "I've gone out with the shy virgin types before, but I think I've always left in the middle of the date. If sex isn't the end game you're doing something wrong."

"You're absolutely disgusting."

"I hope you haven't said that to any newspapers," Pansy said to Blaise, crossing her arms. "You _are_ supposed to be in love, you know. If someone catches a whiff of you saying something like that they'll start following you around to see who you're cheating with."

Blaise rose a single eyebrow at the editor. "Pansy, dear, I've been in this game longer than even you. I know how to manipulate a few news reporters. If I couldn't they'd still be under the impression I'm a Death Eater, wouldn't they?"

"Oh, please, Blaise," Pansy replied, waving him off. "Everyone who knew you knew you weren't a Death Eater. You were never much into it, were you? And your mother was too busy jumping all over North America to be interested in what was going on over the ocean."

Blaise narrowed his eyes at her, but choose not to say anything.

"Jumping all over North America?" Draco asked, knowing dangerous territory when he saw it, and even after all these years he was still unable to resist poking at it. "More like jumping into North American beds. Like mother like son, eh, Zabini?"

That was when Blaise jumped onto Draco's back, knocking them both to the ground. He lifted him up by the hair as he leaned down. "You really want to have a conversation about _mothers_ right now, Draco? Because, if I remember correctly, yours wasn't so clean when it came to the jumping into beds thing either, was she? At least mine wasn't married while hopping into bed with strangers," he growled loud enough for Pansy to hear.

"Not a word about my mother, Zabini," Draco growled right back, struggling to knock the other man off of him.

"What the hell is wrong with you two?" Pansy snapped, striding over to jerk Blaise up and off Draco. "You two are resorting to _fist fighting_ now? What are you? Muggles?" She asked, glaring at both of them. "We have important things to do, and you both are arguing about dead people."

They both turned their murderous glares onto Pansy.

Pansy just shrugged, dropping her own glare. "Well, you _are_ ," she argued, putting her nose in the air. "And even if they weren't you two have more important things to do than squabble like children."

"Fame and fortune," Draco mumbled. "Infinitely more important than mothers," he said with a frown. "Thank you ever so much for reminding me."

"You're such a wet blanket now, Draco," Blaise said, crossing his arms at the other man. "What's important to you then, hm? Clearly not friends, family, romance, fortune, or fame. And you can't tell me that writing Potions books is enough to make your life complete,"

"It does when I'm the one that created the potion I'm writing about," Draco replied with a glare.

" _Children_!" Pansy snapped. "You are getting on my last bloody nerve. Neither of you should care about the why in a situation like this. The only thing that matters is the how behind the end result." She put her hands behind her back as she breathed out, looking much calmer for doing so. " _Now_ , there is a party taking place in exactly ten days. You two will both be in attendance, and you will both be on your best behavior. The media is under the impression you two have been dating for a month, and I don't want anything you two to do to ruin it, understood?"

Blaise and Draco shared a look before focusing back on Pansy and nodding.

"Fantastic!" Pansy declared before smirking at both of them. "Let's get back to cuddling then, shall we? We can stop when Draco finally stops trying to jump out of his skin."

* * *

"Face it, mate, today was a dead end," Dean said, looking across their two desks to focus in on Harry who still had his head buried in paperwork. "We can't gather any evidence on Parkinson without the Ministry's official approval, and the Ministry won't give approval unless we already have some sort of evidence on Parkinson. Two facts, might I add, that she seems well aware of."

"You _do_ believe me then," Harry replied, looking up from the file just to grab ahold of another one. "You think Seth Snape's behind this, too."

Dean tried his best not to show his irritation. "I don't _know_ , Harry. Maybe. We don't even know who he is, and after the way we approached Parkinson I doubt she'll be willing to introduce us. Not to mention, Seth Snape's been around for _years_ with no Death Eater activity, so there's the problem of why he's acting _now_ as opposed to before.

"He was also never seen out in public until a few weeks ago," Harry reminded him. "Maybe he's getting bolder. Figured he'd made an appearance and no one outed him, so he could finally start to move."

"Or maybe Seth Snape's an innocent man who just likes to keep his personal life private," Dean argued. "At any rate, thanks to our actions today, Parkinson knows we think something's fishy, so if he is behind it she's going to take extra lengths to protect him. Today has been a complete waste. Best to pack it in and try again tomorrow."

"No, I have it. This hasn't been a waste," Harry said with a smile. He dropped the file he had been reading and started pacing their office. "We have alibis for Parkinson and Zabini. Nott and Goyle are in Azkaban. Crabbe and Bulstrode are both dead. Davis was cleared. And Greengrass reformed. But you know who's missing? There's no Draco Malfoy." He stopped his pacing to turn towards his partner. "Where's Draco Malfoy, huh?"

Dean's mouth fell open as he matched Harry's gaze. "Draco Malfoy …" he started. "Draco Malfoy's dead, mate. He died with his mother, in the fire that brought down Malfoy Manor over ten years ago. That was one of our first assignments together, remember?"

"No body, though, right?" Harry asked, back to pacing the floor, a smile growing on his face.

"Harry," Dean said, frowning at his friend. "You _do_ remember that fire, right? It was massive and magical. We were barely able to identity _Mrs. Malfoy's_ body."

"If there's no body then there's no proof of death."

"Harry, listen to yourself!" Dean demanded. "Is it really easier to think that instead of a horrendous, magical fire taking out Malfoy, he used the fire as an opportunity to go into hiding for a few years before becoming an award-winning author and Potions master? Who's going to believe that?"

Harry glared at his partner. "Everyone once I prove it's true," he declared before striding out of their office.

Dean didn't bother following him this time.

TBC

Harry and Draco are taking their time coming to a head; even I'm getting impatient! I guess I'm just overeager to write their banter.  
As always, please let me know what you think!  
And now, I am going to bed, because I have been up way too long. Good night and good bye until next time!

-Don't Hold Back


	5. The Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry continues to be a stalker and Draco continues to freak out.

 

Harry had been following Blaise for the past week. So far all he had learned was that Blaise was a shameless flirt and worked far more than people gave him credit for. Though Blaise left the Ministry everyday at five o'clock sharp, he had gone straight home to leaf through newspaper articles and take notes. Harry wasn't sure what it was he was doing, but if the way Blaise rubbed his eyes and shook his head was any indication, it was far from fun work.

He had grabbed a pint with Pansy yesterday, which was the first time Harry had followed him out of the house to a place other than work. They had talked about publicity in hushed voices, arguing over this party or that. A subject that was so tedious Harry had actually fallen asleep in his invisibility cloak, only coming to after someone had tried to sit on him.

In fact, the thing that was suspicious was just how _normal_ this act was. For someone who was supposed to be a playboy and attention whore, Blaise seemed to stay carefully away from the cameras. And while he flirted, Harry had yet to see him bring a single girl home.

And maybe that was because Seth Snape (or whoever he _really_ was) had actually made him change his ways. Maybe Blaise actually was in love like he had told all the papers, but then where was Seth Snape? It had been a week and so far Harry had found no traces of him. There had been no owls, no quick apparitions for a kiss, no one came over to Blaise's house, and he had gone no where but work and the pub.

It was a possibility that Pansy had actually been Seth Snape, Harry supposed. Just because polyjuice potion was illegal didn't mean people couldn't make it, a fact Harry had experience in. Still, if that was the case, after days without seeing each other Harry should have seen some type of sneaked kiss or hand holding. That was how relationships were supposed to work, right? Even more so with the new ones?

Harry perked up from underneath his invisibility cloak as Blaise stepped out of the door leading down into the Department of Mysteries. He had been waiting since a quarter before five, just on the off chance that Blaise would for some reason leave early. He hadn't; it was exactly five o'clock.

Blaise took his hood off and shook his hair, smiling to everyone who passed him by. Most Unspeakables were quiet and reserved, and they kept their hoods up every time they so much as appeared out in public. Blaise was the exact opposite. And maybe that was why he was so known around Wizarding Britain. Unspeakables tried hard to avoid the press, afraid of being questioned about their work or goals. Blaise seemed to love those types of questions, offering the public a grin and a wink that always seemed to boast about how much Blaise enjoyed having secrets.

Harry had to try hard to breath back the sigh of relief when, instead of going out through the front entrance of the Ministry, Blaise stepped up to be in line for the floo network. Harry stepped right next to him, still unseen as he tried not to let himself get too excited.

Just because it was a change in routine didn't mean anything. Blaise could easily just be taking a detour to go to the store before heading home, or maybe he was going to another pub to meet with Pansy again.

Still, Harry really needed a lead so Dean would get off his back. The past week had been nothing but his partner complaining about how he was wasting Ministry dollars by spending all his time on false leads.

Harry scoffed. It wasn't like Dean had found anything of importance either. He was still tied up in paperwork trying to obtain the right to question Pansy Parkinson.

When Blaise's turn came to floo, Harry leaned in closer so he wouldn't miss anything.

"Corner of Continental and Forest Park," Blaise said in a voice that made Harry glad he had leaned in closer.

And what made Harry extremely glad was the fact that it had definitely sounded like a muggle address Blaise was headed to. And a muggle address would be the perfect place for Seth Snape to hide.

* * *

"Blaise!" Pansy greeted as soon as Blaise had stepped out of the fireplace. "Right on time! As prompt as ever! Draco is being terribly stubborn! I told him green would look much better with his complexion, but he keeps insisting on blue! And he wore blue _last_ time! This simply will _not_ do for his self image!"

"Neither will _green_ , you twit of a female," Draco growled from his place on the couch. "Green is the color I'm trying to get _away_ from, if you didn't remember."

Pansy pouted as she crossed her arms. "Green's such a magnificent color on you though."

"Ah, but green's never been an exceptional color on _me_ , my dear," Blaise reminded her. "And I daresay with Draco's new complexion he might have some difficulty pulling it off as well." He shoot a look at Draco before focusing back in on Pasny. "At any rate, darling, I think it would be more beneficial if Draco and I matched, would it not? It's sure to make a statement. We have been dating for a month now, after all."

Pansy tapped her chin with her forefinger. "You do have a point, of course. Maybe something silver and black? Sinister, but elegant."

"I don't want to be sinister, you daft girl!" Draco snapped at her.

Blaise immediately came over to him and rested his hand on his shoulder, shaking his head once he had Draco's attention. "Pick your battles, mon amour," he mumbled quietly.

Draco nodded his head, forcing himself to calm down both at the feel of Blaise's touch and at the anxiety that was coursing through his veins at the prospect of going out again. At this rate he was going to have a heart attack before he was thirty, which would be a real shame given the fact that he was only a couple years away from it.

"Sinister is good," Blaise agreed, looking back up at Pansy, but not taking his hand off Draco's shoulder. "It adds to my charm," he replied with a grin. "The sinister, scary Unspeakable, arm in arm with the scary, sinister Potions Master. We'll bring terror to everyone around us!" Blaise exclaimed, pumping his fist into the air. "It'll be brilliant!"

Pansy seemed to deflate at Blaise's words. "Okay, maybe sinister isn't _exactly_ what we should be going for," she said with a frown, whirling around as she began to pace the room.

Blaise smirked at Draco, and Draco relaxed more into his friend's touch, glad they were on the same side today. Even if it was slightly unsettling that suddenly it was Blaise that was silently manipulating people while Draco fussed and complained. Not that Draco hadn't fussed and complained during Hogwarts, but he had been a lot better at getting what he wanted back then. It seemed the years holed up in his house had completely destroyed what little interpersonal skills he had as a child.

"Hm … so, nothing sinister," Pansy muttered to herself. She had begun tapping her chin as she paced the room. "Maybe something light? Not a red, that'd be a ghastly color on both of you. Lavender would not go well with Blaise's skin tone at all." She finally looked up from her muttering to face the two boys. "What about something a little risky? A white, perhaps. That'd certainly make a statement without looking sinister at all. And white would certainly match both of you."

Draco frowned, looking towards Blaise to gauge his disgust.

"It sounds brilliant, Pans," Blaise replied instead, taking a hold of Draco's hand and kissing the back of it. "With light blue trim." He smirked at Draco, knowing he would have wanted to wear that color now that he had a dark enough complexion to pull it off.

_Battles, mon amour_ rang in Draco's head as he held eye contact with his friend before nodding. Then, it was his wards that rang in his head, and suddenly his eyes were wide and his body was stiff. "Someone's coming through the wards!" Draco hissed before darting down to the basement. They had prepared for this, of course. He had brewed enough trait modifiers to keep up his disguise as Seth Snape for a little over two weeks if it absolutely came down to it. The trick was getting to them before they were caught.

"That's my cue," Pansy said, making quick strides to the fireplace. "You lovebirds have fun," she ordered before taking some floo powder, calling out, "Parkinson Manor," and disappearing from sight.

Blaise stripped off his robes and took off the shirt that was underneath them so he stood in only the loose, black pants that were part of his uniform at work. He quickly ran his hands through his hair, causing it to stick up in all directions. He was on his way to the basement to do the same to Draco, but the other man was already on his way back up.

And Draco, now looking like Seth Snape, looked absolutely ravaged. He was flushed and breathing heavily, his own hair ruffled. While he was still wearing a shirt, it was unbuttoned so Blaise could see his bare chest.

Blaise smirked before reaching over and yanking Draco into him, swiftly locking his mouth onto the other man's. Draco tensed for a minute before forcing himself to relax as Blaise backed them both towards the couch.

Realizing they were moving, Draco pushed him back. "What are you doing?" He asked, breathing heavily. "You think I'm going to listen to my wards cracking and not go check on it because I'm too busy making out with you?" He hissed.

Blaise shrugged, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Most people would, yes. Is the sex not enough for you, mon amour?" He leaned in and licked Draco's ear. "Should I be trying harder?"

Draco immediately reddened before pushing Blaise away. "I-I'm going to see who's trying to force their way through my wards," he said with shaky breath as he raised his wand and slipped into his muggle-style living room to approach his front door.

"We've really gotta teach you how to relax, mon amour," Blaise said even as he grabbed his own wand and traveled close to Draco's back. "Could just be an overzealous fan."

Draco stiffened and then tried to relax as he felt Blaise's chest pressed into his back. He choose to ignore him as he opened up his front door, wand out in front of him.

Harry Potter was on the other end of the door, hand poised to knock. He quickly dropped his hand, glad he had made the decision to not change out of auror robes.

"See, mon petit nounours?" Blaise asked, leaning in closer to him and putting his hands on Draco's hips. "I told you. Just an overzealous fan."

"My address is confidential, sweetheart," Draco replied, forcing himself to smile as he turned his head as much as he could, managing to just to see Blaise's ear. "Did someone follow you here, perhaps? I thought you were being careful."

"I was, mon amour! I came in through the floo, remember?" Blaise asked before setting his chin on Draco's shoulder and looking at Harry. "Is there something you want, Potter?" He asked, his voice infinitely colder. "I'm not sure if you could tell, but mon amour and I were rather busy, if you don't mind."

"It's Auror Potter, actually," Harry corrected him before looking at the man in front of him. "Seth Snape, correct? I'm going to have to ask you to put a shirt on and come with me. I have instructions to bring you into the Ministry for questioning."

Draco felt his face getting red the instant Potter had looked at his chest. He felt so exposed standing outside his house without being properly dressed. It was disgraceful, really, and not at all proper for a Malfoy, if the name had still held any weight, anyway. "Ministry? Questioning? Auror, surely there must be some mistake," he said, trying his best not to show his fear. Harry Bloody Potter just loved ruining everything, didn't he? "Surely this is some type of misunderstanding. I'm an American citizen; don't I get some sort of immunity or a liaison or something of the like?"

Harry smiled at him. "That's only if you were being charged with something." He cocked his head. "You haven't done anything that would warrant getting charged with something, have you?"

Draco tried hard not to visibly tense, but he was pretty sure he had failed. Luckily, Blaise had used the moment to move one of his arms across his chest, effectively covering up any tension. Or, at least, Draco _hoped_ that it had hidden his tension.

"Auror Potter," Blaise said with a smirk. "Surely you are already aware that mon amour is a very private man. He gets nervous around people, the poor thing, especially crowds. He hasn't left his house in a month and now you want to drag him to the Ministry for questioning? Surely you know the scene that would cause. Pansy would have my hide at the public scandal she would have to deal with; I promised I'd be on my best behavior with mon amour."

"Mon amour?" Harry asked before he could stop himself.

Draco rose an eyebrow at him. "Surely your French isn't _that_ lacking, Auror. The country's hardly a stone's throw away." He tried to keep his breathing even as he fit into his role, leaning back into Blaise and congratulating himself on not calling the auror 'Potter'.

Blaise tightened his arm around Draco. "Mon amour. My love," he explained with a smile. "We are in love, did you not know?" He quirked his own eyebrow at Harry. "Don't read the papers much? Or do you just not trust them?"

"A bit of both, actually," Harry answered truthfully. "Not that it matters. Celebrity or not I still need to request his presence at the Ministry," he said, now looking directly at Blaise and ignoring the man in his arms. "It's imperative."

"Alright, fine then," Blaise answered, rolling his eyes. "I'll just go get my shirt, shall I?" He pulled away from from Draco a bit before grabbing a hold of his hand. "I just need to see the summons and then we'll be on our way."

Harry blinked at him for a moment. "The summons?" How did everyone know about the bloody summons? Though the Ministry had been using them for years they had never been required until about three months ago. "Well, there is no summons ... specifically."

Blaise narrowed his eyes at him as he pulled Draco behind him. "Potter, if there is no summons then you can't force us to go to the Ministry. Or are you so apt to forget rules even now?"

"I wasn't _forcing_ you to go," Harry argued a bit too loud. "I was _asking_ you to go. There's a very big difference."

"Mm-hm," Blaise replied, a frown on his face. "We'll see if the Ministry sees the difference between the two," he said before slamming the door in Harry's face.

Draco immediately whirled on him. " _Mon petit nounours_?" He asked with a growl. "My little teddy bear? Are you bloody joking me with that trite?"

"Je suis desole, mon amour," Blaise said with a smile, leaning into Draco and rubbing their noses together. "Il pouvait encore être à l'écoute , imbécile. Pupilles sont en baisse , souvenez-vous ?" [1]

Draco glared at him as he jerked away from Blaise's face. "Oui. Er … Je n'ai pas parlé français dans les années." [2]

"Mon amour speaking the language of love," Blaise announced with a wide smile. "Nothing could be sexier. Il nous regarde à travers la fenêtre , peu factice." [3]

"Stop calling me little, you insufferable man," Draco said, smacking him lightly across the chest. He reached for Blaise's hand and pulled him towards his second living room, the one with the decidedly less muggle appeal. "Come on, mon cochon[4], let's go to the bedroom and I'll show you who's little," he said with a wink.

* * *

Harry stood looking in through the front window with wide eyes. He couldn't hear what was being said, but it definitely looked like Zabini and whoever this Seth person really was weren't lying about their relationship.

There was also no way that Seth didn't realize that Harry was still through his wards. And if Blaise's threat was anything to go by Harry would be hearing about it from the head Auror by tomorrow morning.

But, at least for now, Seth Snape seemed a little too preoccupied to be resetting the wards, and Harry had some tricks for spying within closed wards he had learned through the war and during Auror training. So, all in all, this trip hadn't been a complete waste.

He set to work, going so far as to even implement a few muggle devices. Unfortunately, he couldn't do more than survey the outside, but he did put a few audio surveillance spells around the windows, hoping that they were amplified enough to be able to determine what was being talked about inside.

And now that he didn't have to follow Zabini around all the time Dean would probably get off his back about tracking down the _'real'_ killer, as if that wasn't what he was already doing. Now that he knew where the suspect lived he could just let all the spells and equipment do the work. All he would have to do was listen to it after he got home from work.

And if it just so happened that Seth Snape actually _did_ leave his house Harry put up some alarms around the door. That way he would know. And all he would have to do was make an excuse to get out of the office, and he could be here within milliseconds, now that he knew where the apparition point was.

So this trip had definitely not been a waste, and was well worth the yelling he was sure to experience as soon the the Head Auror heard about what he had done. It certainly wasn't the first time Harry had to experience it, after all, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last. And when it finally came out that he had been right the whole time everyone would fall over apologizing.

It was what happened every time, after all.

And this time was no different.

* * *

" _Suspended_?" Harry exclaimed, looking first at Head Auror Jacobs and then at the person who was _supposed_ to be his partner. "You- you can't just-!" He looked back at the Head Auror. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

"You went out on what you claimed was official Ministry business to bring someone in for questioning who had never been declared a suspect in your case without a summons and without notifying your partner, Potter! " Jacobs shouted back. "You bulldozed through every piece of red tape we have when apprehending criminals. Red tape that is there to protect innocent people from getting wrongfully accused. An innocent person, by the way, that the public absolutely _adores_. His editor is threatening lawsuits. What am I supposed to do? I'm supposed to just slap you on the wrist after you blatantly ignored _every rule put in place_?"

"He-he's not innocent, though!" Harry shouted back, clenching his fists as he tried to remain calm. "I know he's not! And I knew it'd be hard to get a summons against him, so I decided to go out on my own to gather what evidence I could so we could get a proper summons through court. I was going to go through all the proper channels after I got evidence to go on!"

" _The proper channels is how we_ _ **obtain**_ _the evidence, Potter_!" Jacobs snarled. "We don't gather evidence so we can then _pretend_ that we've been following the rules the whole time. And Parkinson is well in her right to sue, and if she does what am I supposed to do?" He slammed his fist into his desk. "I have to be able to tell them that you were reprimanded, despite if I believe you actually deserve it or not. And, for the record, Potter?" Jacobs asked, his face red from all his yelling. "I absolutely _do_ believe that you deserve it. Now, get the hell out of my office! Both of you!" He flashed his wand at them and suddenly both Harry and Dean felt a magnificent force pushing them out of the office and into the hall.

Harry turned to his partner as Head Auror Jacobs' door slammed on its own. "You could have at least had my back in there," he snapped.

Dean's mouth dropped open. "Are you having me on? It wouldn't have done any good except to get me suspended as well! And what's more, maybe if you had _told me what was going on_ I wouldn't have told Jacobs you were out to lunch when he came looking for you! How the bloody hell was I supposed to know what you were doing?"

"You-!" Harry stopped his yelling, forcing himself to take a deep breath in order to calm himself. "I'm sorry," he forced himself to say. "This was just important to me, is all. It's not right that I get punished just because no one believes me. I _know_ Seth Snape is up to something, and when I prove it Jacobs won't have a choice but to lift my suspension."

"Harry, mate, don't you think it's better to leave him alone for now? Parkinson is ready to sue the Ministry," Dean explained, dropping into a calm voice as well. "If she does that the whole thing will turn into a public spectacle, with you and the Ministry right in the wraith of it."

"I know that, Dean." Harry said, a determined look in his eye. "That's why I don't plan on getting caught again."

TBC

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> [1]I'm sorry, my love. He could still be listening, you idiot. Wards are down, remember?
> 
> [2]I haven't spoken French in years
> 
> [3]He's looking at us through the window, little dummy
> 
> [4]my pig


	6. The Plan(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaise and Pansy have a plan, but so does Harry. Neither one bode well for Draco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters seem to be getting shorter, and for that I apologize. Once we finally start seeing some real action (which will be happening soon) I assume they'll get longer. In the meantime, thank you for dealing with short chapters and slow updates.

" _You let Harry bloody Potter_ _ **follow**_ _you_!" Draco snarled as soon as they had flooed to Blaise's residence. "He's going to find out! He was always too bloody nosey for his own good!" He slumped into Blaise's leather recliner as he rested his head in his hands. "I'm utterly ruined. As soon as the public finds out who I am my books will go no where. My _potions_ will go no where."

Blaise rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms. "I remember you being a drama queen back in school, Draco, but this is really taking things to extremes. Potter doesn't know anything. And he'll never know as long as we're careful."

Draco looked up at his friend and snarled at him. " _Potter_ is like a rabid dog. The only way to get rid of him is to put him down, and we can't very well do _that_ , can we?"

" _You're_ like a rabid dog," Blaise replied with a frown. "You just _snarled_ at me, Draco. You're being ludicrous. There was once a time that these things were beneath you, you know."

"Yes, there was also once upon a time when I believed my father would be the next Minister of Magic. We all saw how well _that_ worked out, didn't we?" Draco snapped back. "The name Malfoy means nothing anymore," he reminded his friend. "There's no reason to feel disgraceful for acting out of character for a Malfoy, not when there's already so much else to be disgraceful for."

"Merlin, this family name business is ridiculous. And this perpetual guilt is ridiculous as well. Do you really think you do your family any good by hiding inside and pretending as if you no longer exist?" Blaise asked, glaring down at Draco.

"I think I'm doing the _world_ some good." Draco jerked from the chair so he could begin pacing around Blaise's living room. "What would you and Pansy have me do, hm? You want me to run around pretending as if nothing ever happened? As if half the people I respected and looked up to aren't dead or in Azkaban? As if the entirety of the Wizarding world doesn't look at me as if I'm a criminal?"

Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened to the ramblings of his friend. Eventually he reached over and grabbed Draco's shoulder, effectively halting his pacing. "What I would like is for you to stop living in the past. You never leave your house, so you still think everyone's living in fear or loathing of you, when really they couldn't give a rat's ass anymore. You think I could become an Unspeakable if people were still terrified of Voldemort?"

Draco jerked as he heard the name, his eyes wide as he stared at his friend.

"Merlin, Draco, people are saying his name these days, you know!" Blaise yelled. "You're insufferable, you know that? Over a decade later and you're still terrified? Think he'll come back a third time, do you?"

"We are _not_ talking about him!" Draco snapped.

"What are we talking about then?" Blaise asked, waving his hands in the air. "What does your cowardice stem from if not from him? Afraid people are going to lynch you if you step foot outside? Branleur!"

Draco dropped his scowl to arch an eyebrow at his friend, his anger washing out of him. "Branleur? I don't know that one."

"Branleur. Punheteiro. Gilipollas. Otherwise known as a wanker, imbecile," Blaise replied, crossing his arms as he stared at his friend. "How many languages do you gloat that you know?"

"I'm so sorry I don't know the word for 'wanker' in French," Draco said, crossing his own arms as he glared back at his friend.

"Don't know it in Portuguese or Spanish either," Blaise pointing out, not giving up his stance. "Is it just that you have a hard time retaining things?"

"I know how to say 'pedicabo ego dabo vobis'," Draco growled.

Blaise's eyes widened as he finally took a step back. "You're going to fuck me?"

"Huh? What- No!" Draco replied, quickly matching Blaise's posture. "I- I'm going to fuck you _up_ , is what I meant."

"Ah," Blaise replied, covering a laugh. "'Pedicabo ego vos et', you mean."

"When-" Draco brought a hand up to rub at his forehead. "When the fuck did you take Latin?"

"Since you spent a year rubbing it in my face that you knew a language I didn't," Blaise said with a smile. "The summer after fifth year, I believe? But you were so preoccupied in Sixth I never had a chance to gloat about it until now."

Draco frowned at the reminder. "Preoccupied is one word for it," he muttered.

"I swear, you're so drab when you start in with this rubbish," Blaise complained. "You'd be much happier if you just let it go. You've paid for your mistakes; time to live your life."

"I didn't, is the thing," Draco replied, sinking back into Blaise's recliner. "I got acquitted, if you'll remember, thanks in large part to Harry _bloody_ Potter, who doesn't seem so apt to do it again."

"Harry _bloody_ Potter," Blaise repeated, imitating his friend's voice, "doesn't know who you bloody well are, if you'll remember."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure he'll be much happier knowing I'm Draco Malfoy rather than some bloke making potions that stumbled upon an unfortunate pen name," Draco snapped.

Suddenly Blaise's floo roared to life and Pansy stepped out. "There you two are! What in Merlin's name do you two think you're doing? Harry Potter shows up to interrupt you two about to be having sex and you run to Blaise's house? You know the Ministry can check things like that, if deemed appropriate, do you not? And of course Harry Potter is going to try to deem it appropriate. The whole thing looks enormously suspicious. What were you thinking? Do I have to constantly babysit you two?"

"Seth became uncomfortable knowing there was someone who knew where he lived. He became preoccupied thinking of rabid fans coming and beating on his door. He was distracted, which put me off, so we decided to floo right here to finish business," Blaise explained. "It'd be obvious to anyone who knew him that was what occurred."

Draco rubbed his forehead. "Right, except no one _does_ know the hypothetical Seth Snape, do they? Apart from the two of you, who, of course, Potter will refuse to listen to so he can keep riding around on his high horse."

Pansy crossed her arms, frowning at him. "Yes, that's the part that is troubling me, actually. Exactly what horse is Potter _on_? Is he just getting off on the mystery of the person under the pen name? Seems ludicrous. Surely he has more important things he could be doing. He is an auror, after all. He's happy to just flob off all his cases just to find out your true identity?"

"I told you: he's always had it out for me!" Draco declared, flinging his arms up. "The golden boy can't leave well enough _alone_!"

"He could very well think that this actually _is_ for one of his cases, unfortunately enough," Blaise told Pansy, content to completely ignore his paranoid friend.

Pansy narrowed her eyes. "What _case_ , exactly?"

"It's all very hush hush," Blaise explained, leaning in close to Pansy as he spoke in a quiet voice. "Don't want to cause any type of panic, you know."

"Enough with the suspense," Pansy snapped, though she had lowered her voice as well. "If Draco's done something and gotten in some kind of trouble I need to know so I can start doing damage control."

"I haven't done anything!" Draco exclaimed, which only resulted in glares from his two best friends before the two went back to ignoring him.

"Remember that Gala a week ago?" Blaise asked, looking directly at Pansy as he kept his voice quiet. "The one that the Bulstrodes were trying to pressure everyone to go to?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "How could I forget? I had to practically shove their owl out my window when I refused to RSVP."

"Well, the Bulstrodes never showed up," Blaise continued as a smile spread over his face. "People were more than a little annoyed at them, of course, and sent some aurors to their house as retribution. I'm sure everyone thought the Ministry would stumble upon something they shouldn't and the Bulstrodes would once again be shoved out of polite company. And the aurors _did_ find something, but the something they found wasn't incriminating on the Bulstrodes part."

"Zabini you're talking like a bad movie drama," Pansy finally snapped, straightening up as she glared at her friend. "Can you shut up and get to the damn point!"

"I'm a little confused at how I'm supposed to both shut up and continue a story, Pansy, dear," Blaise said calmly, his voice back to its normal volume.

"You're insufferable," Draco growled from across the room. "What is it that they're trying to accuse me of then? Out with it."

Blaise gave both of them a glare. "You ruin everything, you know that?" He sighed before shrugging. "Murder. The Bulstrode family was found dead."

" _That's_ the part you gloss over?" Pansy asked. "You're rubbish at telling stories. Remind me never to agree to be your editor."

Draco looked between the two of them. "Have you both gone mental? I'm wanted for murder and you two are talking book deals? What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

"Oh, you are not wanted for murder," Pansy said, rolling her eyes. "If you were you would have been brought in before now. Potter's not acting in compliance with the Ministry, and the call I made shortly before I left Draco's ensures that he won't be pretending to do so. At least not for a few weeks, at any rate."

Blaise arched an eyebrow at her. "You've been doing something devious."

"I'm protecting my client," Pansy replied, raising her chin in the air. "I don't think it's devious at all to get an auror suspended when he's trying to illegally obtain information."

Blaise smirked at her. "Oh, no, so nothing devious at all then. Good to hear."

"Millicent?" Draco asked, his voice expressionless. "She's dead, then?"

"That _is_ normally what 'murder' means, mon amour," Blaise said, sparing him a glance before turning his attention back to Pansy. "You think we can prolong the suspension? We can, can't we?" he asked as soon as he saw her expression.

Draco put his teacup down before getting up from the couch. "Please excuse me, won't you?" he asked before gliding out from the room, not waiting for either of his friends to reply.

Blaise looked over at Pansy, raising a single eyebrow at her.

"They had grown close," Pansy replied, her chin raised as she waved a hand in the air. "War has a way of doing that to people, of course. They still wrote to each other every couple of months or so, but I doubt Draco would call her a friend. He'll be fine just as soon as he processes it."

Blaise nodded before getting back on task. "You've already thought of a way to do it, haven't you? A way to get Potter taken off the auror squad?"

"It's like Draco has said: Potter is like a rabid dog." Pansy hid her smirk by taking a sip of tea. "We just need to dangle the right bone in front of him and he'll jump through as many hops as we want."

"Brilliant," Blaise praised. "I suppose it would be in our best interests not to mention to Draco that he's the bone in this scenario."

Pansy patted his hand. "Don't worry about him, dear. Draco has become pliant in his old age. I know how to handle him."

* * *

Harry had sat in his living room watching all his surveillance equipment in real time, barely leaving the room to eat or sleep since his suspension. As far as he could tell Ron and Hermione hadn't heard about it yet, which was something he was unbelievably grateful for. He didn't want to hear all their concerns about whether he was cracking up or not, not when he knew he was right.

It wasn't until three days after his suspension that he finally caught something in his transmission.

"... Forcing this ... Lie low ..." Seth Snape's unsteady voice broke through the static.

Harry immediately perked up, leaning forward as he adjusted his antenna in the hopes of clearing the static. The adjustment just resulted in more static.

" ... For years ... Relax ... need to ... this party ... amour," Blaise's voice replied.

Harry frowned as he twisted the antenna the other way, quieting the static back down.

Seth's voice came through. "Millicent ... Killed ... Want me to ... full of people … like ..."

Harry's eyes widened as he heard Millicent's name. As of yet, the public wasn't aware that there was anything wrong with the Bulstrodes, the Ministry deciding to keep it under wraps until they got a better grasp of the situation. So how did Seth Snape know about it?

"... Draco? ... Potions Master? ... to kill you ... ridiculous .. this murderer is … targeting Death Eaters … which ... " Blaise's voice said.

Harry leaned forward, his eyes focused on the conversation, afraid to move the receptor despite the fact that only bits and pieces were coming through the static. Draco Malfoy was trying to kill Seth Snape? Was he the one that was targeting Death Eaters? Some sort of redemption gone wrong, maybe? But if he was going after Death Eaters and Blaise was afraid that he'd target his boyfriend, did that mean that Seth Snape was a Death Eater too?"

".. bloody idiot!" Seth Snape's voice said.

Seth Snape being a Death Eater would certainly explain why he'd want to remain anonymous. And why he decided to pick out his pen name. And how he knew Parkinson. It made perfect sense. And Draco was the one killing Death Eaters? That one Harry had a harder time wrapping his head around, but he supposed a lot could change in ten years.

" ... down already!" Blaise's voice cut across the static. " ... non negotiable. Pansy'll … let you ... party."

"... absolutely ... don't you? ... get me killed," Seth's voice argued back.

Another party then? One Seth Snape was attending? Or one Draco Malfoy was attending? Was Parkinson helping Seth or Malfoy? Either way, clearly she was involved.

"Merlin ... becoming a hermit ... turned you ... No one knows ... anything ... be afraid ..." Blaise replied.

A hermit? Was Blaise talking about Seth or Malfoy? Harry gave in, finally adjusting his receptor, resulting in even louder static.

" ... killing ... Blaise!" Seth's voice said.

"... here killing you ... don't come ... party next week ... more afraid of ... Parkinson?" Blaise asked back.

So the party was next week, and Seth wasn't going because he was afraid? Or was Blaise saying that Malfoy wasn't going to come because he was afraid of Parkinson? Harry frowned, wishing for a way to hear the conversation clearly.

"... can't be ..." Seth answered

"... protect you ... make sure you ... nothing bad ... gotten quite ... party scene ..." Blaise replied.

Blaise was definitely protecting Seth Snape, but was Parkinson? Or was she helping Malfoy? And was Malfoy even in the wrong to be going after Seth Snape? All known Death Eaters had been tried and been kept on close tabs within the Ministry. They would have known if Seth Snape was one, which meant that he had never been put on trial. Maybe he deserved what Malfoy was going to do to him.

Harry frowned at his own thoughts. If Seth Snape was a Death Eater that had somehow fallen through the cracks and gotten out of a trial, that still didn't mean that he deserved death. It meant that he was due a trial, so the Wizengamot could pass their judgement.

One thing was for sure though, he was going to be at that party next week.

TBC

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is interested in the conversation Harry hears sans static, here it is:
> 
> Draco: "I don't know why you're forcing this so much. It's best to lie low for now,"
> 
> Blaise: "You've been lying low for years now. Relax. We need to go to the this party, mon amour."
> 
> Draco: "Millicent is dead, Blaise! Dead! Killed in her own bloody home! And you want me to go out there in a room full of people and parade around like … like-!"
> 
> Blaise: "Like what, Draco? Like you're a famous, world renowned Potions Master? No one's going to kill you in a room full of people, you ridiculous, paranoid, buffoon. And besides, whoever this murderer is, they're clearly targeting Death Eaters, which you are not."
> 
> Draco: "Except I am, you bloody idiot!"
> 
> Blaise: "Draco, calm the bloody hell down already! This is nonnegotiable. Pansy'll have my head if I let you skive off the party."
> 
> Draco: "You two are absolutely wretched, you know that, don't you? You're going to get me killed."
> 
> Blaise: "Merlin, Draco, becoming a hermit has turned you into a loon. No one knows who you are, or anything about you! You have nothing to be afraid of!"
> 
> Draco: "There's someone out there killing people, Blaise!"
> 
> Blaise: "Pansy'll be in here killing youif you don't come to that bloody party next week. Are you more afraid of a stranger or Parkinson?"
> 
> Draco: "It can't be both?"
> 
> Blaise: "I'll protect you, mon amour, okay? I'll make sure you have a fabulous time and nothing bad happens. I've gotten quite good at the party scene, you know."
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope to "see" you all next time! :)


	7. The Unveiling

 

It took Harry five days before he finally found out the party Seth Snape was most likely attending. The party in question was actually a fundraiser hosted by the Wizards and Witches Against the Potionalization of Magical Beings, or Wawapomb for short. (Harry took a moment to roll his eyes at the wizarding world's proclivity for too-long acronyms.) The party was raising funding in an effort to protect magical creatures from being both used in potion ingredients, as well as being tested on.

This meant that Hermione Granger was certain to be attending. It also made it suspicious that _this_ was the party Seth Snape would be appearing.

After all, wouldn't a Potions Master _want_ the option of using magical creatures in his potions? It would give him more ingredients to choose from, right? And wouldn't a Potions Master want the option of animal testing? Because how else would he know whether or not his potion did what it was supposed to do?

But, after sneaking into the Ministry to check on the constantly-monitored activities of the ex-Death Eater Pansy Parkinson, Harry was confident that this was the only party Parkinson would be attending that matched up with Seth Snape's party plans. And, no matter what side Parkinson was on, Harry felt confident in the idea that she wouldn't allow her greatest writer to attend any party with just Blaise for backup.

The problem came with convincing Hermione to leave her husband at home so Harry could be her plus one. In fact, he was heading to a lunch date where he planned to convince her of that very thing.

Normally, it wouldn't be a problem. All it would take would be a quick lunch followed by an "almost forgotten" favor. He probably could have even simply dropped a hint that he was interested, and Hermione would have fallen over herself inviting him to come.

Unfortunately, his suspension from work seemed to have taken him off his game a bit, because the lunch date Harry had invited her out on was during his normal working hours. And while Harry absolutely got a lunch break, both his friends knew that he never took it unless he had something work related to talk about.

So Hermione had pressed, and Harry had denied, and he really should have known Hermione enough to know that she'd go straight to Ministry records in order to figure out what Harry wasn't telling her. So, now, not only did she know that Harry had been suspended, but she also assumed (correctly) that this lunch date had everything to do with Seth Snape.

And considering that Seth Snape was the reason for his suspension, it'd be hard to get Hermione to cave to anything that encouraged Harry's (according to Hermione) " _obsession_ ".

Harry tried not to frown at that thought. Once upon a time, Hermione would have believed whatever type of " _obsession_ " he had. Or, even if she didn't believe him, be open to hearing him out. But the floo call directly after Hermione had found out about his " _obsession_ " had been nothing close to that. It was full of disappointment and anxiety and confusion.

Which just so happened to be Harry's three least favorite things to come out of Hermione Granger. But she was his "in" to this particular party, and Harry wasn't about to give up the chance, no matter how much convincing it would take to get her to bring him along.

Harry apparated right outside the restaurant. Ideally, Harry liked to avoid wizarding restaurants, as he could never guarantee that his meal wouldn't get interrupted by someone asking for an autograph or a picture. Still, there was something to be said for being able to apparate right to it, instead of having to worry about taking a taxi or bus.

Hermione, true to form, had beaten him here, most likely showing up fifteen minutes early to ensure it. She threw her arms around him before slapping him lightly on the chest.

"Harry James Potter, what is wrong with you?" she asked immediately, not letting him get a word in edgewise. "Bothering Seth Snape like that? Violating all kinds of Ministry protocols that _you_ help set up? How do you think that looks?" She finally finished her rant and leaned back, arms crossed as she glared at him.

Harry winced at the reminder of how hard he had pushed for all the new Ministry regulations. "This is different, Hermione."

"Different, _how_ , exactly?" Hermione snapped before Harry could continue. "Because you know better than everyone else? Because you're sure Seth Snape is guilty of something? And on what _proof_?"

"It's …"

And Harry realized he didn't know how to explain himself. He never really had to with Hermione, after all. He might have had to tell his side of the story before, but Hermione had never ignored his hunches. She'd never outright denied him for breaking the rules. "Hermione, I heard them talking!" he finally said, leaning in so she could hear his whispers. "About the murder they aren't supposed to know about. And about Draco who's supposedly dead. What about that isn't suspicious to you?"

Hermione bit her lip like she always did when confronted with a moral dilemma. "It _does_ sound suspicious," Hermione said slowly before going back to glaring at Harry. "But, Harry, you can't just go around _spying_ on people just because you have a hunch!" she said with renewed vigor. "Even if it _is_ right!" she added when it looked like Harry was going to argue.

"I know, okay?" Harry replied, holding both his hands up in surrender. "I'm not going about this the right way at all. I know that. But, Hermione, an entire family was _murdered_. And the Ministry has absolutely no suspects. What was I supposed to do? And now Seth Snape's talking about these murders that no one's supposed to know about? We can't ignore that just because it'd be breaking some rules. People's lives are in danger!"

Hermione sighed before nodding her head. "Yes, yes, you're right, of course," she finally relented with a frown. "But I still don't like that you went against Ministry protocol in the first place. And I _especially_ don't like that you left Ron and me completely out. That's not like you, Harry."

"I know. And I'm sorry," Harry replied. "I was just-" He stopped mid-sentence to shrug. "There's not really any excuse," he said instead. "But I'm making up for it now, aren't I?"

"Most likely because you need my help," Hermione accused with a smile. "Let's go have lunch, shall we?" she asked, heading towards the entrance of the restaurant. "And you can tell me all about whatever plan you need me for."

"Thanks, 'Mione," Harry said with a smile, following behind her.

* * *

Draco raised an eyebrow as he watched Parkinson pacing around in his living room and muttering to herself. "You might be cracking up," he told her. "You want Blaise and I to ride on a bloody dragon to this thing? You're a nutcase. I'm not shelling out the galleons for that."

"Dragons have been out for a couple years anyway, Pansy, dear," Blaise said from where he sat on the arm of Draco's leather chair. "Not to mention, they make an enormous mess."

"Of course you're right," Pansy muttered, not stopping her pacing. "I decided _weeks_ ago that a dragon would be ludicrous. But the alternatives are so mediocre. Brooms? Thestrals? It's all so drab and dull."

" _Weeks_?" Draco asked, suddenly glaring at the girl. "You've been planning this for _weeks_?" He looked towards Blaise, sitting on the arm of his chair and sent him a glare as well. "You've _both_ been planning this for weeks? And how is it that _I_ haven't been planning this for weeks? I've only just heard about this ridiculous idea of yours."

"We decided you already had too much on your plate, dear," Pansy replied, walking over to pat him on the shoulder.

"Right," Draco replied with a frown. "More like you didn't want me fighting you for weeks about it," he muttered.

"Well, if you already knew the answer why'd you ask?" Pansy snapped, putting her hands on her hips. "I swear, Draco, you're so infuriating now. Always asking pointless questions you already know the answers to."

"You do seem to be slipping a bit there, darling," Blaise adding, throwing his arm over Draco's shoulder. "Can't blame us for keeping you out of the plans. You'd just slow us down with all the inane questions."

"Yes, well, I'm sorry I'm so bloody awful," Draco snapped, throwing Blaise's arm off him and getting up from his chair. "I'll just leave you then, shall I? Certainly don't need me around while you _plan out my demise_ ," he growled before striding out of the room.

Blaise rolled his eyes at his back. "My, he's certainly gotten more dramatic in his old age, hasn't he?" He slid off the arm of the chair and into Draco's vacated spot.

"So, if not dragons then what?" Pansy asked, completely ignoring Draco's exit. "We need something flashy! Something everyone will remember."

"What happened to the limousine idea? Just because it's muggle doesn't mean it's not flashy," Blaise pointed out. "And you know we aren't going to be able to keep a dragon complacent with all the flash photography."

"Hm," Pansy replied, stroking her chin. "Yes, I suppose that's true enough." She took a quick look up the stairs where Draco had gone before she started whispering to Blaise. "Is Potter going to be there, do you know?"

Blaise smirked at her. "Pansy, have you forgotten the kind of person we're dealing with? Potter'll be there, if for nothing else than to make a fool out of himself. I'll announce that we're going to a few papers, Potter will see it, and then he'll start pulling every string known to man to make sure he's there," he promised.

Pansy frowned at him, crossing her arms. "Overconfidence is not what we need right now, Blaise. I _need_ Potter to be there. And I know he hardly ever reads the paper. What if he misses it?"

"He's not going to miss it," Blaise promised. "This is a mystery, remember? And I think we all remember the lengths Potter always went to when he had something he thought needed solving."

* * *

"I was thinking polyjuice at first," Harry told his best friend, leaning over the table so he could speak quietly. "But he didn't have any type of flask or anything at his awards ceremony, and he was there for several hours. So then, I started thinking about all those potions he's created, and a stumbled upon those trait modifiers he created back when he was only publishing in America."

Hermione nodded her head as she took a sip of her tea. "That'd make the most sense for him. Trait modifiers can last for several hours depending on their concentration. But it'd make it terribly difficult for him to look the exact same at this party he's supposed to be attending. Especially if he's changed a lot about his appearance. So, more than likely, we'd be looking for someone that already looks a lot like him. Maybe he changed his hair or his skin tone. It'd be too much to change too much of his appearance."

Harry shook his head. "If he really is a hermit who only makes potions day in and day out, I wouldn't be surprised if he could do it. You notice that he hasn't put out any more books? Well, he also hasn't pushed for any more patents either. So what's he been doing for a month?"

"Stockpiling trait modifiers," Hermione answered, her eyes wide. "It could definitely be conceivable. If he made the first ones as a batch, all he would need to do would be to check the color and consistency, and they would be so close to each other no one would notice."

Harry grinned at her as he nodded. "Exactly what I was thinking. And then there's this whole business with Malfoy."

"That's reaching," Hermione interrupted. "Malfoy's dead, Harry. He died with his mother when Malfoy Manor burned down, remember?"

"No body," Harry reminded her with a shrug. "After everything we've been through you don't think it's possible that Malfoy faked his own death?" he asked. "Or maybe he has amnesia or something," he rushed to add when all he received from Hermione was a glare.

"I don't understand you, Harry," Hermione said with a sigh. "After all this time, you still don't trust Malfoy? After you testified for him? And you're convinced that anyone carrying around the name 'Snape' only has bad intentions, even though, Harry, Snape was on _our_ side during the war. You _know_ that."

"I know that, and you know that, and Ron knows it, and Dumbledore knew it," Harry agreed. "But that's it, Hermione. To the rest of the world Snape was a Death Eater through and through."

"You don't _know_ that," Hermione argued. "Maybe he told someone else. Or maybe someone else found out, and took on his name to honor him."

"And they're using trait modifiers to hide their identities from the world for what reason then?" Harry asked. "People don't hide who they are if they aren't doing anything wrong."

"Maybe he just likes his privacy," Hermione suggested.

"Or maybe he's Draco Malfoy in hiding," Harry replied.

Hermione frowned at him. "I don't think those time frames match up, Harry. Seth Snape was publishing books before the Malfoy Manor fire."

"Only in America, though," Harry pointed out. "And Malfoy could have already been using a pen name before the fire, and the fire was just a convenient way to disappear."

"Why would Malfoy want to disappear in the first place? He was acquitted during the trials." Hermione asked him. "And if he was using a pen name because he didn't want to be associated with Death Eaters then he didn't choose a very good one."

"Because you're thinking about it backwards," Harry said, leaning across the table even more. "Maybe it was his intention to get _closer_ to Death Eaters, not farther away. Draco Malfoy was acquitted, but Severus Snape wasn't. As far as the wizarding world knows Snape stayed loyal to Voldemort throughout his life. It'd certainly explain the killings."

"What killings? You said that outside, too. But I've not heard anything about them," Hermione asked as her eyes widened. "You think Malfoy's killing people?" she asked in a hushed whisper.

Harry nodded his head. "The Bulstrodes were found dead not too long ago. With a message that said 'For he who betrays shall not live'. It could be that Malfoy thinks the Bulstrodes betrayed Voldemort."

"Oh, Harry, that's awful!" Hermione said. "The entire family? You really think Malfoy's capable of that? I know he was a prat during school, but-"

"It's been ten years, Hermione," Harry reminded her. "A lot can change in a decade. And if Malfoy thinks the Bulstrodes betrayed Voldemort by proving their innocence, then he's got to be thinking the same thing about himself. And he's been stewing in guilt for ten years, building up the courage to do something drastic."

Hermione nodded, her eyes wide. "Okay, so we absolutely have to stop him. What do you need me to do?"

"Any chance you know how to reverse Malfoy's trait modifiers?"

Hermione bit her lip again, looking to the ceiling. "I bet I could. Seth Snape gives very detailed notes about all his potions. If I know exactly what goes into them I can make another potion to counteract the effects."

Harry smiled at her, glad he was finally including her in his plans. He always thought clearer with Hermione around. "That's great. Then I just need you to get me into a party."

* * *

"Are you sure there's no way to be talked out of this?" Draco asked as he adjusted his dress robes in his mirror.

"There's no way to be talked out of this," Blaise assured from beside him, using the same mirror to adjust his own dress robes. "Stop being so uptight for once, Draco. It's a party!"

"It's my death, is what it is," Draco muttered before stepping away from the mirror.

Blaise sighed. "Your flair for the overdramatic has reached new highs, Draco." He ran his hands down his robes to smooth them out one more time before stepping away from the mirror and giving his full attention to his date for the evening. "That's not a compliment, by the way."

"I gathered that," Draco snapped, glaring at his friend. "And where the hell is Parkinson with that limo?" he asked, heading towards his living room to wait for her.

Blaise sighed again. "Doesn't want to go, but wants to go right now," he muttered to himself, just loud enough for Draco to hear. "Makes _perfect_ sense to me."

"Sarcasm doesn't look good on you," Draco replied, raising his chin as his floo roared to life.

"And melodrama looks absolutely horrid on you," Blaise snapped back before forcing a smile towards the fire. "Pansy, darling," he greeted as a body appeared.

"I can hear you arguing through the floo network," Pansy pointed out, glaring at both of them. "And this isn't going to work if you two aren't a _happy_ couple. Everyone knows an odd, _unhappy_ couple; that's not exciting. It's certainly not newsworthy. And you twats _need_ to be newsworthy," she lectured, her arms crossed as she looked between both of them. "Can we be happy this evening?"

"Absolutely, my dear," Blaise replied with a slight bow and a smile.

"I'm absolutely _not_ happy about any of this," Draco replied stubbornly, sending his own glare to his editor. "You specifically told me that I wouldn't have to do this again when I went the last time."

"Yes, and you knew perfectly well that I was lying to you, so I don't understand why you're complaining now," Pansy snapped back.

"I did _not_ know that you were lying to me!" Draco declared loudly.

"Well, that's your own fault for being an imbecile," Blaise said from behind him. "I thought we'd both learned back in school never to take Pansy at her word. I would have thought you learned that lesson after the Yuletide Ball. Remember? When she told you she wanted to marry you only to be found shagging Nott in the-"

"That's enough, Blaise," Draco and Pansy both snapped.

"Exact same night, too," Blaise continued, ignoring both the glares being shot at him. "Talk about embarrassing, eh, Draco?"

"I'm going to massacre you, Zabini," Draco promised, growling at his date for the evening. "Right after I rip all your limbs off."

Blaise rose an eyebrow at him. "Pretty plebian of you, don't you think? I was under the impression you had more class than that."

"Boys, can you both show at least a little restraint?" Pansy asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You two are absolutely impossible, I swear to Merlin."

"It was Blaise who-"

"I don't care who started it, Draco!" Pansy snapped. "I care about you both shutting it down and acting like you love each other. Or I will massacre the both of you," she promised, giving each of them a glare. "Now, outside, the both of you. The limo should be here any minute."

* * *

"The antidote is in the punch," Hermione whispered to Harry as he was taking a drink of said punch. He promptly spit it back into his cup, much to hermione's amusement. "It's nonlethal, Harry. I wouldn't have dumped it in the community punch if it wasn't." She purposely took a slow sip of your own punch, as if emphasizing her point.

"Right, yeah," Harry replied, taking a sip of his drink without spitting it out this time. "Guess I'm just distracted," he admitted, scanning the room for Seth Snape yet again.

"Distracted looking for Seth Snape?" Hermione guessed, still talking quietly so they wouldn't be eavesdropped on. "You'll know when they get here, Harry. Parkinson isn't going to send in her number one author without making sure everyone knows he's here."

Harry nodded at her before giving her an earpiece. "I bugged the front, too," he said, shrugging when Hermione gave him a pointed look. "You can never be too careful."

"Yes, you can, Harry," Hermione replied. Her strict tone was offset by the smile on her face. "It's called being paranoid," she said before putting the earpiece in.

"It's not paranoia if I'm right," Harry said, producing his own smile.

"Just don't do anything drastic, okay, Harry?" Hermione asked him. "If you're right, and Seth Snape really _is_ Draco Malfoy he'll be causing quite an uproar when the trait modifiers wear off."

They heard a loud squealing and then the sound of wings through their ear pieces.

"I bet that's them," Harry said, already heading for the door. "Let's go."

Hermione shook her head. "Let's split up. It'll be less suspicious that way when I offer him some punch. You weren't exactly warm to him when you met him the first time."

Harry smirked when he realized that could be said for both Draco Malfoy and Seth Snape. He nodded at Hermione before taking off towards the overly large front door.

"Doves, Blaise?" he heard Seth ask through the earpiece.

"Pansy's idea, love, not mine," Blaise replied.

"I should have assumed. She's always been overly flamboyant. Makes her a better gay man than the both of us combined," Seth said, and Harry could see the white limo they must have pulled in with, but he couldn't get a good look at the couple from over the heads of the crowd.

"Don't tell her you said that," Blaise advised. "She is almost thirty without a husband or children. She's developing a bit of a complex over it."

"Well, if she wouldn't overly concern herself with every detail of _my_ life, she might be able to focus on _hers_ ," Seth snapped.

"She is good at managing your life, though," Blaise replied, and Harry, standing on his toes, could just see him throw an arm over Seth's shoulder. He tried to get in closer, knowing that they were walking away from the transmission he planted, and he would soon lose his in on their conversation.

"She's good at giving me a headache," Seth argued, his voice barely heard as he got closer to the building.

"She's been saying for years that she'd find a way to get you out of the house," Blaise said. "And, look: here we are."

"I'd rather not hear yet again how Parkinson manipul…" Seth said before getting too far away for Harry to hear. He slipped out his earpiece and put it in his pocket, having no desire to listen to the conversations of paparazzi hanging around outside.

When he finally made his way inside Hermione had already engaged Blaise and Seth in conversation, and all three had a glass of punch in their hand. Harry decided to give them their space as he kept a close eye on them.

* * *

"I never pegged you for a potions nerd, Granger," Blaise said, making sure to show his irritation. They were here to mingle and look out for Potter, not get Draco absorbed in Potions Theory.

"Oh, well, I'm certainly not a master," Hermione replied, her cheeks coloring a little in embarrassment. "I'm certainly not as good as Potions Master Snape, here," she said, nodding her head in Draco's direction. "If my questions are too rudimentary for you-"

"Your questions are fine," Draco assured her with a smile before giving a quick glare to Blaise. "You have some very interesting questions, Miss Granger. Are you going to be speaking on the panel?"

"Oh, no! Though I did volunteer. But not for Potions Theory. I volunteered to speak on behalf of the magical creatures, but, seeing as this ceremony is in honor of the rights of magical creatures, and because I have no one to argue with, they've decided to put someone more … _charming_ in the position."

"I can imagine no one as charming as you," Draco said with a smile before Blaise pulled him back.

"Mon amour," Blaise said, pulling Draco to him so he could whisper quickly and quietly into his ear. "If we don't leave Granger and this inane chit chat I'm going to avada kedavra my bloody brains out."

"You'll have to excuse, Blaise," Draco said, turning to Hermione and taking his first sip of punch. "He doesn't like it when I give compliments out to other people. He's very possessive."

"Guilty," Blaise admitted, slinging his arm around Draco's shoulders. "So, if you'll excuse us, I think I'll go reclaim my man's attention now." he said before steering them away, not waiting for a reply from Hermione.

Harry was by her side as soon as Hermione lost the sight of their backs.

"How'd it go?"

Hermione shook her head and bit her lip, stretching her neck to try to see over the crowds. "He took a sip of punch, but I'm not sure it was enough to counteract the trait modifiers. And I think Blaise is suspicious; he certainly didn't seem pleased with my presence."

"It's fine," Harry assured her. "You hang back. I'll follow behind them."

Hermione nodded her head as Harry took off after them. He tried to get as close to them as he could without drawing attention to himself, but, unfortunately, that distance wasn't close enough to be able to hear their conversation. It _was_ , however, close enough to see Seth Snape take another sip of punch.

* * *

"Maybe I just don't understand the point of talking to Granger," Blaise groused to Draco, trying hard not to make it sound like whining.

"And _I'm_ starting to think you _are_ jealous," Draco replied with a smirk before taking a sip of his punch. "Not only is Granger a big player as far as the Ministry of Magic is concerned, she's also heading the campaign for the rights of magical creatures. It'd be a mistake to not be on her good side."

"I didn't realize getting on someone's good side was synonymous with kissing their ass," Blaise scoffed before taking a sip of his own punch. He severely wished they served alcohol.

Draco smirked at him. "You _are_ jealous. My, my, Blaise, I had no idea. So, when did you realize that you were in love with me?" he asked, his smirk growing as he leaned closer to the other man. "Was it recently? Or have you been harboring a crush on me since childhood? I did always have my suspicions, of course. Especially back in fourth year, when you-"

"Alright, that's enough," Blaise interrupted, gripping Draco's shoulder too hard as he leaned forward to kiss him. "Are you dumb?" he asked quietly as he he pressed his nose against Draco's. "This isn't the place to be talking about Hogwarts. Have you not noticed the Boy Wonder tailing us since we got here?" he hissed.

Draco looked around as soon as Blaise had pulled back to find Harry Potter standing a few meters away staring at him. He took a large gulp of punch before nodding at his date. "Sorry. It … it slipped my mind," he admitted quietly, avoiding Blaise's eye.

Blaise smirked at him. "I get that a lot," he replied, lifting Draco's chin to force eye contact. "I understand I'm ravenous. Makes it hard to think of anything else, I'm sure."

Draco glared at him but didn't pull back. "I'm not the one who's acting jealous," he replied, smirking through his glare.

"Who wouldn't be jealous at anyone who takes your attention away from me?" Blaise answered, matching Draco's expression for a few seconds before his eyes widened. He dropped his hand from Draco's chin. "Dr-Seth, I think …" he started. "I think you're going pale." he continued quickly, grabbing Draco's hand as he led him out of the room. "Let's find a quiet place, okay? The crowd's must be getting to you."

"Blaise, what's wrong with you?" Draco asked, allowing himself to be pulled along all the same. "I feel fine."

"Well, you don't look fine," Blaise replied as he hurried them out of the room and into the hall. He quickly looked around before pulling Draco into a janitor's closet and closing the door behind them.

"Just what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Draco snapped. "Pulling me into a janitor's closet? People are going to think you pulled me in here to shag!" he hissed. "How is that going to look?"

"I think you should be more concerned about how _you_ look," Blaise answered before conjuring a mirror in front of his date.

Draco's eyes widened as he took in his appearance. Draco Malfoy stared back at him, not Seth Snape. All his trait modifiers had worn off. "How-how could this happen?" he asked in a hushed voice as he ran a hand through his hair, still staring at himself in the mirror. "They were working perfectly fine. There's no way I made a mistake." He rubbed at his forehead as he stared at the ground. "Maybe I didn't put in enough essence of newt," he mumbled to himself, "But then I'd be tinged green right after I had taken it, and that certainly wasn't the case. Or, maybe I _was_ tinged green and the skin modifier disguised it. I don't think that's ever happened before, but I'll have to look through my notes. Can't think of what else could have happened."

"Draco!" Blaise hissed, gripping his friend's shoulder. "Now is neither the time nor the place to think about your bloody potions!" he snapped. "We've gotta get you out of here before people see you, you imbecile!"

Draco took a deep breath before nodding. "Right, yes, of course. We need to get out of here without causing a scene. Maybe if you go out first, and then I'll-"

He was interrupted when the door flew open and the flashes of camera blinded him. When his vision finally cleared he was staring at Potter holding a wand at him in front of a crowd of people all leaning forward to get a better look at him.

"Draco Malfoy," Harry announced, triumph clear in both his voice and on his face. "You are under arrest for pseudocide and suspected Death Eater activity."

"Potter," Draco growled out as, suddenly, he knew exactly what had happened to his trait modifiers: it was Harry bloody Potter. It was _always_ Harry bloody Potter.


	8. The Arrest

Draco Malfoy spent the night pacing his cell and cursing Blaise’s progress in getting him a lawyer.  He was livid. This was Parkinson’s fault for forcing him out of the house. And this was Zabini’s fault for egging her on.  And this was most definitely Harry bloody Potter’s fault for being the nosy, golden boy, nitwit he’d been since the day he was born. 

Pseudocide?  Faking his own death?  That wasn’t even a bloody crime!  It wasn’t like he had set fire to his house!  Though he was sure Potter  _ thought  _ that was the case.  It was perfectly legal to live under a different identity if he wanted, as long as he wasn’t committing identity theft.  Which, seeing as ‘Seth Snape’ was a completely made up person, he  _ wasn’t _ .  

And suspected Death Eater activity?  Like what? The only Death Eater activity that had happened in the past five years were the Bulstrodes murders, and there was no way Potter thought him capable of murder.  

Draco paused in his pacing, the frown on his face growing.  Potter thought he was capable of  _ murder _ !  That little bastard!

He resumed his pacing in an attempt to stop himself from putting his fist through the concrete that surrounded him.  Of course Potter would think the big, bad Slytherin was capable of bloody murder. Draco was going to kill the nosey little git the second Blaise got him a halfway competent lawyer.

Merlin, as if he even had the  _ time  _ for murder!  And as if he would murder the  _ Bulstrodes  _ of all people.  What a ridiculous notion!  He had  _ liked  _ Millicent, for Merlin’s sake.  And he had been acquitted after the war!  And Potter was suspended from the Aurors! He didn’t even have the authority to arrest him!  It was ludicrous that he was even here in the first place!

Draco halted his pacing once again as a light expanded in the middle of his cell and a projection of Blaise appeared.  “Blaise, thank Merlin. You’ve finally found a lawyer competent enough, then? I want out of this festering, cockroach-infested, excuse for a holding cell immediately!”

Blaise put his hands up in surrender, his face giving away no emotion.  “Perfectly understandable, mon amour, but perhaps not the best course of action given the circumstances.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at his friend.  “Why would it be a  _ good  _ thing to stay in a bloody jail cell?  And why are you still calling me your love?  What the bloody  _ hell  _ is going on out there, Zabini?  The Ministry can’t honestly  _ suspect  _ me of anything!  They have no proof!”

“Right, they  _ don’t  _ have any proof,” he turned to his left, talking to a person invisible to Draco.  “Not that they  _ would  _ have any proof, with Draco being completely innocent and all.  We’re lovers; I think I would know if he was running around killing people.”

“Zabini!” Draco snapped, bringing his friend’s attention back to him.  Draco was getting more and more livid as he started connecting the dots.  “Are you trying to tell me that people actually think I’m a bloody  _ murderer _ ?” he asked, trying and failing to control the volume of his voice as he clenched his fists.  

“I wouldn’t say they  _ think  _ you are,” Blaise answered, wincing at Draco’s stoney face.  “More like there are some people that are  _ concerned  _ you  _ might  _ be.  And the press is having a field day that the Malfoy name is still alive, and you’re gay, so it’s like the name’s dying all over again.  Not to mention that the true identity of Seth Snape has been revealed. Pansy and I both feel it might be to your benefit if you stayed here and off the radar for a few days while we clear up some of the more … immediate concerns.” 

Draco narrowed his eyes at his friend.  “Immediate concerns like  _ what _ , exactly?

Blaise shrugged.  "Well, like the murder thing, for instance."

"Zabini!" Draco snapped, gnashing his teeth together.  "There is no murder thing. They have no proof and will get no proof.  So just find me a competent bloody lawyer and I'll be out of here by the end of the day."

"The lawyer thing might be a bit of another immediate concern," Blaise answered before wincing under Draco's glare.

"And what, exactly, is concerning about getting me a bloody lawyer?"

"Well, the 'getting the lawyer', actually," Blaise admittedly, looking everywhere but at Draco.  "Finding one to represent you as been ..." He waved a hand in the air. "It's been a tad of an uphill battle," he finally admitted.

Draco blinked at him for several seconds.  "No one wants to represent me," he rephrased despondently. 

"I wouldn't say  _ no one _ ," Blaise replied.  "Just, that we haven't  _ found  _ anyone.  The two are different things, you know."

"No one wants to represent me because everyone thinks I did it," Draco said in the same tone of voice.  He suddenly glared up at Blaise. "I told you this would bloody happen!" he snapped. "But you and Parkinson didn't want to listen to me, did you?  'No, Draco, that won't happen'," he mimicked in a high pitched voice as he started pacing his cell once more. "'No, Draco, you're being ridiculous.' 'You're being paranoid, Draco.' 'Nothing will happen, Draco.'"  He stopped his pacing only to stride over and try to punch Blaise, cussing when he remembered the other man was a bloody hologram.

Blaise put his hands up in surrender as Draco's fist sailed through his face.  "I am glad I didn't have to do this in person," he admitted with a smile. 

"Blaise, so help me, when I get out of here I will become a bloody murderer because I am going to kill you!" Draco shouted, punching Blaise in the head twice more, despite the fact that his fists made no connection.

"Careful, Dray, the Ministry  _ does  _ have the right to record anyone in their custody, you remember," Blaise replied, still smiling.  He turned to the left, addressing someone Draco couldn't see. "He gets a little testy when he's being accused of crimes he didn't commit."

"Blaise," Draco snapped again.  He rubbed at his forehead, his anger fading away.  "This is completely going to ruin me, no matter the outcome.  People aren't going to want to buy potions from a man accused of murder."

"Oh, Draco," Blaise answered.  "Now I wish I had done this in person," he said quietly before glaring.  "So I could smack you for doubting that Pansy could pull this off. You know our girl's magical, mon amour."  He smiled at his fake boyfriend. "Just leave it to us, pumpkin."

"Don't call me 'pumpkin'," Draco snapped at Blaise's fading form.

* * *

Hermione frowned as she glanced at the very small amount of paperwork they had on both Draco Malfoy and Seth Snape.  “I’m afraid there’s not much here to go off of, Harry,” she confessed, looking up at him from across the table. She flipped through a few more of the meager pages.  “It’s not that these prove he’s innocent. It’s that-”

“There’s absolutely no information whatsoever,” Harry finished, nodding.  “I know. I’ve been through it all before, Hermione. That’s why I had to go with my gut on this one.  But I  _ know  _ he’s up to something.  Why else would he be hiding under a false identity all these years?”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, just that we can’t prove anything one way or the other with the information we have,” Hermione replied, flipping the cover of the folder containing all the useless information closed.  “He hasn’t posted bail yet,” she reminded him. “Maybe it might be best to go to to him personally.”

Harry rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, let me take a guess as to how that would go,” he muttered to himself before leaning back on his chair. 

“Well, we’re eventually going to have to talk to someone, Harry,” Hermione snapped.  “Otherwise we’ll never have any type of evidence.”

Harry pushed his glasses up as he leaned forward once more.  “I’ve gotten the important bit accomplished,” he said. “When Draco eventually posts bail he’ll be tracked from now on, and then all we’ll have to do is wait.”

“Wait for someone else to be murdered?” Hermione asked for clarification, a frown on her face.  “Maybe if you went to go see him in his jail cell (where everything is being recorded), he’ll be emotional enough to let something slip.  A hint, perhaps, about who he’ll go after next or why he’s doing it,” she suggested. 

Harry nodded.  “You do have a point,” he admitted, getting up from his desk.  “I’ll go pay him a visit before he posts bail then, shall I?”

* * *

“Get out,” Draco immediately growled as soon as Harry Potter’s hologram appeared in front of him.  He turned over on his two thin mattress where he had been trying to force himself to sleep through this entire ordeal.

“What’s the matter, Malfoy?” Harry asked, his arms crossed as he tried and failed to keep the smirk off his face.  “Upset I ruined your perfect plan?”

Draco tried to ignore him.  Really, he did. But Harry bloody Potter was absolutely impossible to ignore.  “Oh, I’m upset about a lot of things, Potter,” he admitted. “I’m upset I’m in the piss poor excuse for a bed.  I’m upset I’m being wrongfully accused of  _ murder _ .  I’m upset I have to look at that ugly, disfigured face of yours.”  His eyes darted up to Harry’s forehead as he sneered. “I’m upset that my boyfriend has insisted I  _ don’t  _ post bail, so I have to  _ continue  _ to look at that ugly, disfigured face of yours.  I’m upset at the mob of reporters I’m sure are, at this point, camped out in front of my house and making me the laughing stock of the neighborhood.  I’m upset that my once private and quiet life is now neither quiet  _ nor  _ private.”  His lip curled up in disgust.  “The only  _ plans  _ of mine you ruined, however, was the plan for me to get my latest book done and published by the end of this month.  And that was, of course, more Pansy’s plan than mine.”

“So you don’t admit to knowing anything or having to do with the murder of the Bulstrodes?” Harry asked, now frowning at him. 

Draco rolled his eyes.  “I’ve already gone through all these questions during the  _ actual  _ interrogation.  You can listen to the tapes if you’re going to insist on asking the same questions.”

“I’m not interested in listening to your  _ lies _ ,” Harry replied.  “I’m here for the  _ truth _ .”

That got Draco rolling out of bed and stalking over to Harry.  “The  _ truth  _ is that you’re an enormous git!  I was finally enjoying my life just for you to come and ruin it again,” he growled, clenching his hand into a fist as he tried his best to hold back his anger.

“So you  _ admit  _ that you were doing something wrong!” Harry broke in, triumph clear in his voice. 

“I  _ admit  _ that I was happy living in solitude and out of the public’s eye,” Draco snapped back.  “That’s no longer a choice for me  _ again _ , thanks to you.   _ That’s  _ how you ruined everything, you giant buffoon!”

“Death Eaters aren’t allowed the luxury of private lives,” Harry reminded him.  “You forfeited that right as soon as you sided with Voldemort.”

“I. Was. Acquitted,” Draco replied through clenched teeth.  “I’m surprised you don’t remember since it was at  _ your  _ word that I was pardoned.  Or is it that you  _ lied  _ to the Wizengamot all those years ago?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at the prisoner.  “I didn’t lie. I was  _ mistaken _ ,” he corrected.  “It’s just now occurring to me exactly  _ how  _ mistaken I was.  Faking your own death?  Hiding under a false name?  Using potions to disguise your face?  Those  _ aren’t  _ things an innocent man does, Malfoy.”

“I already  _ told  _ you, I enjoy the quiet,” Draco growled.  “I can’t very well enjoy peace and quiet if everyone is stalking me for being a Malfoy.   _ That  _ is the only thing I’m guilty of.  And I’d thank you to remember that.  Haven’t you accused enough innocent people in your life, Potter?  Or is it that anytime you hear the surname ‘Snape’ you lose your bloody marbles?”  

“You don’t know anything about Snape!” Harry argued.  “You have no idea-”

“ _ You _ have no idea,” Blaise repeated, his transparent body appearing beside Harry, “just how much you’re pissing me off.”  He turned to Draco. “I’m posting your bail, and we’re getting out of here,” he announced. “The Ministry isn’t as safe as we’d anticipated.”  He turned back to Harry. “And  _ you  _ should get your facts straight before you go around pointing fingers.  You do you think that Draco somehow managed to kill someone while locked in a jail cell?” 

Draco and Harry both took a step towards Blaise. 

“They found someone else,” Draco announced, his voice quiet. 

“Who?” Harry demanded.  

Blaise glared at Harry before turning his attention back to Draco, his face softening.  “Jugson was found dead at his desk inside the Ministry,” he explained. “They’re not going to be able to keep this one out of the papers.”

“And how do you even know that this death is tied in to the Bulstrodes?” Harry asked with a glare.  

Blaise glared right back.  “Because the words ‘For He Who Converts Shall Not Live’ was found in blood hovering above his body.”

TBC


	9. The Haunting

“The important part is that you’re home now,” Pansy said, squeezing Draco on his shoulder.  

Draco could not be appeased and jerked Pansy’s hand off him.  “First of all, I am  _ not  _ home; I am in  _ Blaise’s  _ home.  Second of all, that is not at  _ all  _ the important part.  The  _ important  _ part is that you left me in a bloody jail cell all weekend in an effort to be  _ safe _ , just for another Death Eater to turn up dead several stories above my  _ head _ !”

“You’re alive;  _ that’s  _ the important part,” Blaise corrected, putting his hand on Draco’s other shoulder. 

“No thanks to you two!” Draco snapped.  “Thanks to your harebrained schemes the entire wizarding world not only knows exactly who I am, but also where I  _ live _ !”

“And your books have, oddly enough, been flying off the shelves,” Pansy pointed out. 

“My secretary has been looking into getting a bodyguard she’s been ambushed on the street so much by reporters trying to schedule an interview with me,” Blaise added with a grin.

“Oh, well, in that case, I’m so glad it was all worth it,” Draco replied.  He instantly brightened. “Hey, I’ve got a  _ sensational  _ idea!  You know what would  _ really  _ start moving books?  A dead author! So let’s just-”

“No one appreciates your sarcastic attitude, Draco,” Pansy snapped, hands on her hips.

“I for one am very against it.  I doubt people are going to be as supportive of me dating a dead person,” Blaise put in with a small frown.  “You’re being awfully paranoid about this whole thing,” he added, turning serious. “Why are you so sure they’re going to target  _ you _ , of all people?”

“Because  _ I _ , of all people, was acquitted of all crimes!” Draco snapped as he started to pace the floor.  “I never served any time for all the crimes I committed, and I was also a loud supporter.”

“ _ Very _ loud,” Blaise corrected in a mutter. 

Draco glared at him.  “Explain to me how this … this  _ person  _ (whoever they are)  _ won’t  _ see that as the ultimate betrayal.  Especially since I’ve been in hiding for the past decade, and I’m certainly  _ not  _ a loud supporter anymore.  Of  _ course  _ they’ll be coming after me.”

“You weren’t the only one acquitted, Draco, darling,” Pansy pointed out.

“I am the only one acquitted that is now in the public eye, Pansy,  _ darling _ ,” Draco snapped back.  “What better way to announce your presence than by killing an ex-Death Eater everyone is currently paying attention to?”

“And we _are_ taking precautions,” Pansy broke in, “Or did you think there was another reason we’re at Blaise’s right now instead of at your place?”

“I _think_ I can’t very well get any work done if I’m away from my potions lab!” Draco snarled at her.  “Do I have to remind my _editor_ how busy my schedule is?”

“Well, make up your bloody mind, why don’t you?” Pansy snapped back.  “Do you care about sales or do you care about your life? Because we can’t protect both!”

“So then you _are_ taking this seriously?” Draco asked, suddenly panicked rather than angry.  “You really do think I’m going to be targeted?”

“Bloody Merlin, Draco!” Pansy snapped, “I’m only taking this seriously because _you’re_ taking this seriously, you bloody nitwit!  You are going to drive me up a bloody wall!”

“Let’s all calm down,” Blaise suggested, walking in between the two.  “Draco, I know it’s not much, but I do have a potions lab in my basement.  It will probably take some cleaning up, but you’re more than welcome to it.  Let me know what ingredients you need, and I can go out to collect them.”

“ _I_ will go out to collect them,” Pansy corrected, glaring at Blaise.  “Or do I have to remind you what happened when you tried to walk to the Ministry to visit Draco yesterday?”

“I got completely mobbed,” Blaise explained to Draco with a smile.  “Reporters everywhere. Don’t think I ever thought I’d be Harry-Potter-famous, but, yet, here I am.  And it’s all thanks to you, Draco darling.”

“Enough with the Draco darling shit,” Draco snapped, glaring.  “And I’d thank you to not mention that bloody name around me ever again.”

Pansy rolled her eyes.  “You’re such a drama queen,” she muttered before turning to Blaise.  “Fine, if you have everything covered here, then I’ll go out and try to calm the public down,” she announced before heading towards the fireplace.  “Neither of you are to go outside for any reason. If you need anything send me an owl, and I’ll pick it up for you,” she demanded before stepping into the fireplace, the words “Parkinson residence,” following behind her disappearing form.  

Blaise turned to Draco with a smile.  “Well, Draco darling, it seems it’s just the two of us now.  About time, am I right?” he asked, leaning close.

Draco threw his open hand in Blaise’s face, shoving him back.  “Don’t be disgusting. And I told you to knock it off with all the bloody ‘darling’ shit.  I’ll be downstairs cleaning up what I’m sure is to be a travesty of a potions lab,” he said before turning around and going towards the basement.  

Blaise crossed his arms and sighed.  “As if I’m going to stand here and do nothing while this chance at publicity passes me by,” he muttered to himself before heading to his study in order to owl his secretary; he had appointments to make.

* * *

 

“Right under the Ministry’s noses,” Harry cursed, crumbling the papers on his desk in an effort to find some evidence that made sense. 

“While Draco Malfoy was locked in a cell,” Dean pointed out quietly, “so there goes that theory out the window.”

“That doesn’t mean that he didn’t have anything to do with it,” Harry snapped.  “It just means that he has an accomplice. Blaise Zabini certainly heard about the incident fast for someone who didn’t have any inside knowledge.”

Dean rolled his eyes.  “What are you talking about ‘he doesn’t have inside knowledge’?  Of _course_ he does. The guy’s an Unspeakable; they have their hands in _everything_ around the Ministry.  It makes sense that he would know before most people, especially if he was at work during the time. Especially if he was concerned about Malfoy’s well-being.  Which, I assume he would be, since they seem to be dating these days.”

“ _Are_ they dating?” Harry asked, not bothering to look up from his paperwork.  “When I was tracking Blaise he certainly never seemed to be rushing off to see Malfoy.  You’d think they’d see each other more than once a month if they were in love like they claim to be.”

Dean rolled his eyes before walking across the office and crossing his arms over Harry’s desk.  “Just because you were following him doesn’t mean he didn’t floo over to Draco’s from his place,” he pointed out.  “And, also,” he said, pulling the papers away from Harry, “may I remind you that these are _my_ reports, since you’re still suspended”.

“Didn’t keep me from arresting Malfoy,” Harry pointed out. 

“Yeah, and had Pansy pushed she would have been able to get the entire case thrown out based on that fact alone.  She still can, in fact. The only reason she dropped it is because she was afraid of the public outcry,” Dean said.  “Harry, you’ve gotta drop whatever this thing is you’re holding on to; you’re going to get us both suspended if you keep it up.”

“If you’re more interested in protecting your job than figuring out the truth than I’ll just leave you out of it,” Harry snapped before getting up from his desk and heading towards the door.  Despite his very correct assumption that Seth Snape was actually a Death Eater in disguise he had yet to be reinstated as an Auror. But that just meant he had plenty of time on his hands to track this case his own way.

He’d find out the truth.  And as soon as he did he’d make sure that Draco Malfoy would pay.

* * *

 

It took several days, but eventually Draco was able to get Blaise’s potions laboratory good enough to be deemed  _ slightly  _ on the side of ‘acceptable’.  Still, every once in awhile Draco’s potion would turn a shade darker or lighter than it was supposed to, and he’d curse the conditions that put him there.  After having heard nothing else about the killer and having to throw out half a dozen potions due to less than stellar working conditions he was ready to throw caution to the wind and go home.

Not that Blaise would ever let him do that.  

“And  _ you  _ call  _ me  _ paranoid,” Draco said yet again as he tried to sneak off to the floo in order to go back to his nice, clean potions laboratory.  “Aren’t you getting tired of this?” he snapped. “It’s been over two weeks since I was stranded here. If something were going to happen it would have by now.  Let me go home.”

“I was enjoying our time together,” Blaise argued.  “Getting to know each other in close quarters again; it’s gotten me wonderfully nostalgic.”

“I have no interest in nostalgia, Blaise,” Draco replied.  “I have an interest in my potions and an interest in my books, and I have an interest in not becoming some deadbeat because I’ve been locked out of my own house.”

Blaise took hold of his arm before he could get any closer to the fireplace.  “Just give it a few more days, Draco,” he pleaded. “Surely living with me isn’t so bad that you can’t endure it for another day or so.”

“That’s exactly what you said yesterday!” Draco snapped.  “I’m tired of waiting! I don’t even know what exactly it is that I’m waiting for!  What is it? I’m waiting for the masses to calm down about who I am? Who cares if I’m sneaking into my house through the floo?  I’ll stay down in the basement and avoid the windows. I don’t care, Blaise! I just want to go home! I want to sleep in my own bed!  I want to brew in my own lab! And I want to write in my own study! Let me go!” he growled.

“Draco, listen to me,” Blaise pleaded, not letting go of Draco’s arm as he was dragged closer to the floo.  “You can’t go home right now, okay? It’s not safe for you there.”

“Stop talking nonsense, Blaise,” Draco demanded as he continued to drag the other boy with him.  “I’m going home, and if that requires forcing you into coming with me then so be it.”

“I’m not going to let you leave,” Blaise declared, finally taking Draco’s other arm and pulling him away from his destination.  

Draco struggled, causing them both to fall.  Then he rolled them both over so they were half in the fireplace and half on the hearth.  “Malfoy residence!” he shouted, letting Blaise roll on top of him to avoid only half of them going through the floo.  

“Draco, I swear to Merlin …” Blaise started as he was shoved out of the fireplace.

“Blaise, what the bloody hell happened to my house?” Draco asked.  He had started to climb over his friend only to freeze when he saw the condition of his once immaculate living room.  

His pictures were torn down from where they had once hung on the walls, ripped to shreds and left abandoned on his floor.  His leather couch had been ripped to shreds as well, its stuffing strewn across his living room. There was blood. Or rather something red, becuase it couldn’t _possibly_ be blood.  It was all over everything. It covered the walls, the floors, and the furniture. 

“Draco, darling,” Blaise began, “this is exactly what I’d been trying to tell you before you threw me into the fireplace.”

"Is that so?" Draco asked, his voice tight.  "I don't seem to recall you trying to tell me anything besides 'wait a few more days'."

“Malfoy,” Harry greeted, his eyes wide as he walked into the living room from the kitchen and spied Draco on top of Blaise, both of them half in and half out of the floo.  

“What the bloody hell is Harry bloody Potter doing in my house?” Draco asked, his voice shrill as he glared at Blaise.  

“It seems as if you’re a target,” Harry answered quietly, nodding his head above the fireplace.  

Draco glared at him before climbing out and turning around.  His mouth dropped open when he saw what it read, the message made with the same red that was now covering his living room.  

“There is no escape.  You shall not live”

TBC


	10. The Promise

 

“This is all your bloody fault!” Draco yelled, his face red as he spit at Harry.  “I was perfectly content living life, and you had to come in on your bloody high horse and ruin everything!  Look at my living room!” he demanded, waving his arms at the room around them. The furniture was torn and shredded, along with all the photographs that used to line the walls.  There was red … something (it wasn’t blood. It couldn’t be blood) on all the walls and the floor and the ceiling.

“It _does_ seem as if you might be the next target,” Harry allowed, his voice quiet as he looked around him.

“Oh?  Is _that_ what it _seems_ like to you, Potter?” Draco spit.  “I’ll tell you what it seems like to me. It _seems_ like you put me on the bloody damn chopping block the second you decided that I had to be some sort of criminal to take on Snape’s name.  It seems to _me_ that this is all your fault. You led them right to me!”

“It looks like they broke through your wards,” Harry continued as if he had not heard Draco’s outburst.  “It might be best if you could maybe stay with a friend or significant other,” he suggested, shooting a look at Blaise who was standing by Draco’s side.  

“And why the bloody hell is it _you_ here?  Weren’t you suspended?” Draco replied, still glaring at the other man.  “If you are in my house for anything other than Ministry business, so help me Potter, I will _demolish_ you.”

“I was reinstated into the aurors due to extenuating circumstances,” Harry explained.

“Extenuating circumstances?” Draco snapped back.  “Extenuating circumstances like you guiding some Death Eater murderer right to me?  Like _those_ type of extenuating circumstances?”

Harry clenched his teeth.  “The Ministry is very upset about the hardship this attack has caused you,” he said as if reading from a book.  “Rest assured we are doing all we can do-”

“Are you bloody serious right now, Potter?” Draco snapped as he strided over to the other boy.  “Take some bloody responsiblity for your actions! None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for you!”

“I’m sorry!  I was wrong about you, okay?” Harry finally snapped.  “And it’s my fault you’re in danger now. I understand that.  Is _that_ what you want to hear?”

Draco was far from pacified.  “Wrong about me just like you were wrong about Severus, is that right?  A lesson you failed to learn the _first_ time!”

“Just because he was a spy didn’t mean he didn’t have Deatheaters clamoring to be like him!  How was I supposed to know that you were you?”

“When you found out I was me you were ten times worse!  Fuck you, Potter! Get the hell out of my house!”

“Draco,” Blaise interrupted, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder.  “Take a minute and think about what you’re doing. Just because he’s a daft git doesn’t mean he can’t be helpful.”

“Helpful?” Draco snarled.  “I think he’s been helpful enough, don’t you?" he asked before turning back to Harry.  "I want you gone. I want this … this …” he demanded, waving his arms around to indicate the red substance that was now covering his walls.

“Blood,” Harry supplied.

Draco snapped his mouth shut as he glared at the man in front of him.  “It’s not _blood_ , Potter.  Or did you fail to see that I wasn’t at home at the time of the break in?”

Harry frowned, looking around uncomfortably before turning his attention back to Draco.  “I’m sorry to inform you that your house eleves-”

Draco’s eyes widened and his face drained of color as he realized what had happened.  He would never get used to this; all the blood and death. If anything the war had made him even more adverse to it than when he had been a child.  He fell into Blaise, who was quick to wrap an arm around him. “Don’t say it, Potter,” Draco demanded quietly. He didn’t want to hear that his house elves were dead.  Didn’t want to hear about how some insane psycho had managed to kill three house elves in one go without being stopped. Didn’t want to hear about how that same insane psycho was now after him.  

“Let’s go, mon amour,” Blaise suggested quietly, pushing Draco towards the fireplace.  “You go first,” he urged, gathering floo powder from where it was left at the top of the fireplace.  “Zabini residence” he called before stepping back as Draco whirled away. He whirled back around to face Harry, his voice no longer kind.  “So, I think it’s pretty clear that you’re the one to blame for all this,” he said harshly. “If you hadn’t outed him Draco would still be safe and sound at home brewing potions and not worried about anything but making his deadlines.”

“I know that,” Harry replied, his face set in determination.  “And I know he’s innocent.”

“About bloody time!” Blaise snapped.

“I’m going to find this murder, and I’m going to stop him,” Harry declared.  

“Oh, jolly good,” Blaise bit out sarcastically.  “And I’ll just keep Draco holed up at home in the meantime, shall I?”

“I’ll protect Draco, too,” Harry replied.  “I promise. I’m not going to let anything happen to him.”

“See that you don’t, Potter,” Blaise snarled before heading back to the fireplace.  “Because if anything happens to him I will do everything in my power to ensure that you wished you were dead.”  He grabbed some floo powder and threw it at the fireplace before stepping inside. “Zabini residence,” he muttered, face still twisted with rage.

* * *

 

“Those poor house elves,” were the first words out of Hermione’s mouth as soon as she heard the news.  

“More importantly, how did it even happen?” Ron asked.  “It’s not like they’re weak. To attack three of them in their own home …” He shook his head.  “They should have been more than a match against a wizard, especially one acting alone.”

“Unless he isn’t acting alone,” Harry pointed out.  “He could have accomplices. Could have been staking out the house, too.  He could have taken out the house elves one after another.”

“Impossible,” Hermione answered.  “You can’t contain house elves like that, not if they haven’t chosen you to be their master, and certainly not in the house they have dominion over.”

Dean rubbed his head.  “Can we back up a second?  I don’t even know how you managed to get reinstated.  Or how two non-aurors are now involving themselves in our assignment.”  He looked pointedly at Ron and Hermione. “And, exactly why is Draco Malfoy suddenly a victim instead of a suspect?  Logically, he’d be the only singular wizard able to kill his own house elves, wouldn’t he? It’d certainly be a lot easier to do than killing someone while he was locked in jail.”

“You didn’t see his face when he found out his house elves were gone,” Harry explained quietly.  He looked down at the table that was between all four of them before shaking his head. “There’s no way he could have killed his own elves and then made a face like that.”

They were sitting at a small, crowded muggle cafe on the opposite side of town from the Ministry, having decided that they couldn’t trust everyone in the building at the moment.  Hermione had cast a silencing charm on them as soon as they had found a table, and they were feeling relatively safe from prying eyes and ears.

Dean sighed.  “So we’re following your intuition again, is that it?  Sure, why not? Worked out so well the last time,” he muttered before inclining his head towards Ron and Hermione.  “And those two? You want to explain to me why civilians are suddenly on this case?”

“It was at the Minister’s suggestion,” Harry replied, glaring at his partner.  “If you have a problem with it you should take it up with him.”

Dean rubbed his chin, too used to Harry’s outbursts to be bothered with them anymore.  “Just seems a tad suspicious,” he admitted. “The Ministry as a whole as always been an advocate of keeping departments separate, the Minister doubly so.”

“It _does_ seem a tad odd,” Hermione replied with a frown.

“But it’s also not the important thing right now,” Harry said.  “The important thing is finding this killer and bringing him to justice.”  He dug a manila folder out of his bag and set it on the table in front of everyone.  “Let’s go over what we know so far,” he suggested.

“The Bulstrodes were the first victims,” Dean started.  “We were called when family friends grew concerned-”

“The _first_ thing that happened was that Seth Snape showed up to claim an award,” Harry interrupted.  

Dean rolled his eyes.  “Oi, I thought we were off that!  Didn’t you admit yourself that Draco Malfoy was no longer a suspect?”

“He isn’t,” Harry agreed, “but he _is_ a victim now.”

“Seth Snape shows himself in public and a month later some Death Eaters turn up dead?  And you _still_ think those two events are somehow related?” Dean snapped. “How are you not in a nuthouse right now?”

“Listen to me!” Harry replied.  “Seth Snape shows himself in public.  Then, a month later the entire Bulstrode family turns up dead.  We go to investigate their house thanks to the concern of an anonymous family friend.  There’s a message over their heads saying ‘For he who betrays shall not live’. Two weeks later Seth Snape goes to a party and is revealed to actually be Draco Malfoy.  He gets jailed. It only takes two days for another body to be found right above Draco Malfoy’s cell.”

“ _Several stories above_ Draco Malfoy’s cell,” Dean interrupted, only to be ignored.  

“This time it’s Jugson, who most of the public didn’t even know of as a Death Eater.  This time ‘For he who converts shall not live’ is the message. Another two weeks go by.  The Ministry gets an anonymous tip, this time from a concerned neighbor, which causes us to go and investigate the Malfoy residence.  This time three house elves were found slaughtered on the second floor. The message is on the fireplace this time, and not anywhere around the bodies.  There’s a different type of message this time, too. ‘There is no escape. You shall not live.’”

“‘For he who betrays shall not live,’” Hermione muttered.  “‘He’, even though it was three people under the message.”

Harry nodded his head.  “Because that message was never _for_ the Bulstrodes.  It was for Seth Snape. He betrayed the cause. He was writing under the name of a known Death Eater while creating potions that would protect against and cure dark curses like what were used during the war.  Then they found out that Seth Snape was actually Draco Malfoy. ‘For he who converts shall not live’. Because now they know they’re talking to someone who _used_ to be a Death Eater. Then the third message. ‘There is no escape.  You shall not live.’ They aren’t making an example out of the house elves like they were with the Bulstrodes and Jugson. Now they’re sending a clear threat. They’re going after Malfoy.”

“How many people knew that Seth Snape was actually Draco Malfoy after Harry outed him?” Ron asked, cringing at the glare Harry shot him at the blunt question.

“Everyone,” Dean answered.  “The papers latched onto the story immediately.  Within twenty-four hours the entire wizarding world knew who Seth Snape was.”

“What about how many people knew which cell Draco was in?” Hermione asked.  “Though it _might_ just be a coincidence,” she added, giving Dean a pointed look when he started to open his mouth, “for now let’s operate on the assumption it was done purposefully.  How many people knew Draco’s _exact_ location?”

“The entire department of guards,” Dean answered.  “And the information is also readily available to anyone on the Wizengamot.”

“Anyone that knew he was being kept at the Ministry could perform a finder spell and know exactly where he was,” Ron pointed out.

“Right, and if that happened in the Ministry then they would have a record of when, where, and _who_ performed that spell,” Harry said.

“That would certainly be a big break,” Hermione said as she got up from the table.  “My lunch break is almost over. I have to be in the department of records this afternoon anyway.  Let me see what I can find while I’m there. With any luck, we’ll have a lead.”

Harry nodded at her.  “Dean, you pull the guard files.  We can eliminate anyone who was working at the time and accounted for from our suspect list.  Ron, you do the same thing with the people of the Wizengamot. Find out what they were doing and where they were.  Let’s all plan for dinner together. We can go over everything we’ve found then.”

“And exactly what will _you_ be doing?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll be protecting Malfoy,” Harry announced.

Dean couldn’t help but roll his eyes.  He should have guessed, really; Harry was all about Draco these days.   

TBC


	11. The Protector

“I’m blaming you for this entire debacle,” Draco said, glaring at his new bedmate.  

“I live with no regrets, mon amour,” Blaise answered with a grin, throwing his arm around Draco and scooting in closer.  

“Explain to me why this dump only has two bedrooms in the first place,” Draco snapped, crossing his arms and leaning away from his friend.  

“Let me remind you that before you came into my life this used to be a bachelor pad,” Blaise replied, still grinning.  “I never thought I’d need anything more than the two.”

“Explain to me why this second bedroom is now housing Harry Bloody Potter,” Draco snapped, his glare intensifying.

Blaise rolled his eyes.  “Because there is some psychopathic killer after you, and, as much as you may hate him, no one has more experience with psychopathic killers than Harry Bloody Potter,” he answered calmly.  “And, while it took great thought on my part, I have decided that I’d much rather have you alive than comfortable. Which is also the reason, I’ll remind you, that you're in this dump of a bachelor’s pad in the first place.”

 “Explain to me why we’re keeping up with this sham of a relationship,” Draco demanded, snarling at his bedmate.  

 "Ah, mon amour,” Blaise answered with a smile, “I thought you of all people would notice how uncomfortable Potter gets every time I touch you.”

Draco frowned.  “You think Potter’s homophobic?”

Blaise shrugged.  “Perhaps. Or perhaps he's jealous he doesn’t have anyone to curl up to at night.  No matter the reason; I’m not above ruffling him up a bit. Just because he’s helping us doesn’t mean I like him.”    

Draco grinned back.  “I knew there was a reason I fell in love with you.”

“Mon amour,” Blaise answered, reaching over to hug him.  

“Don’t touch me when we’re alone though,” Draco snapped, quickly shoving the other boy off him.

* * *

 

“Potter,” Blaise greeted the next morning as he  came down the stairs. “Done anything useful yet today?”  He snatched the Daily Prophet Harry had been reading and spelled a copy before handing the original one back. 

Harry glared at him but didn’t speak until his face was covered once again by the newspaper in front of him.  “That’s classified, Zabini.”

 “Oh, but of course it is,” Blaise answered.  “I forgot that as an Unspeakable I can’t look at any classified information at all,” he said sarcastically.  

 Harry was saved from having to respond by Draco’s footsteps coming down the stairs.  

 “Blaise,” he greeted, still half asleep in his pajama pants and bathrobe.  He snatched Blaise’s coffee and newspaper.

 Blaise just smiled at him and got up to make himself another cup.  He conjured up another copy of the paper as soon as he sat back down at the table.  

 Harry frowned at both of them before turning his attention back to the article he had been reading.  

 It was several minutes later when Blaise asked another question.  “Sleep alright?” he asked Draco, not bothering to look up from his paper.

 “Surprisingly well,” Draco answered despondently.  He flipped a page before continuing. “... if you take into account how lumpy your cheap bed is and the fact that you insisted on smothering me all night.”

 "Yes,” Blaise answered, “it is too bad that your house has been deemed unsafe.”  He shot a glare over at Harry. “I, too, am much more comfortable over there.” He turned to direct all his attention to Harry.  “How about it, Potter? Any idea when we’ll finally be able to go home?”

 Draco snapped his attention across the table at Harry, his eyes wide as if he had forgotten the other man was in the house with them.  He ran a hand through his tangled hair and gave a quick look to his night clothes. “I- I’ll go take a shower, shall I?” he asked, looking over at Blaise.

Blaise just smiled at him.  “Of course, mon amour.”

Draco blinked.  “Right, yes, of course.”  He shot another look over to Harry before leaning down and giving Blaise a quick kiss on the cheek.  “Be back in a bit,” he murmured before taking off up the stairs.

“You know I don’t believe for one second you two are actually dating,” Harry said bluntly as soon as Draco was well out of earshot.  “There’s absolutely no way you gave up being the Wizarding World’s Most Eligible Bachelor so you could go out with Draco Malfoy of all people.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow at him.  “Oh, no? Just becuase you fail to see all of his redeeming qualities doesn’t mean that everyone does.”

“Redeeming qualities like _what_ , exactly?”

Blaise put a finger up to his lips as his grin grew.  “Well, for one, he is actually quite cute, isn’t he?”

 

* * *

Draco growled as soon as he heard Blaise’s floo flare to life, already knowing who was about to step out.  “Pansy,” he greeted. “I take it you have good news?” He finally looked up from his parchment.

 “I have news,” Pansy corrected as she looked around.  “Where’s Blaise? I need some tea.”

 “Thought you would, darling,” Blaise answered, walking into his living room with three cups of tea floating ahead of him.  He flicked his wand and one floated right over to Pansy. “Just how you like it, my dear.” He floated another one towards Draco.  “For you, darling.”

 Draco rolled his eyes, but it didn’t stop him from plucking the cup out of the air and taking a sip.

 “Draco’s house is still being searched for traps,” Pansy said before taking a sip of her tea.  “So I’m afraid it’s still going to take some time until you’re allowed back.”

 “‘Searching for traps’ my ass,” Draco muttered darkly.  “More like ‘still under investigation’.”

 Pansy gave an easy shrug.  “Call it whatever you’d like; the point is you aren’t allowed over there at the moment.  I trust you find this place acceptable?”

“Don’t act as if I have a choice,” Draco snapped.  He shot a glare at Blaise before seeing Potter standing behind him in the kitchen, a frown on his face.  “It’s better than a hotel, at least,” he forced himself to allow.

“More amenities, at least, eh?” Blaise answered with a smirk before walking over to stand behind him.

Pansy rolled her eyes.  “Yes, well, I’ll be sure to ask for details so I can add that into one of your press conferences, shall I?”

“Best you not joke about that, Pansy,” Blaise answered, putting a hand on Draco’s shoulder.  “We both know how sensitive Draco is.”

“Exactly what is that supposed to mean?” Draco snapped, jumpeding up from his seat and whirling around to face Blaise.  

 “Oh, Draco, calm down,” Pansy replied, waving her hand towards him.  “He just meant-”

 “He just meant he’d be happier being single!” Draco interrupted, glaring at Blaise.

 “Mon amour!” Blaise gushed, grabbing ahold of Draco and forcing him into a hug.  “You know I couldn’t live without you! You’re my heart!

 Draco shoved Blaise off him as he saw Potter disappear from the kitchen entry way.

* * *

 

Harry sat looking over all the files he had received from Hermione, Ron, and Dean when they had dinner together the night before.  No spell had been cast in the Ministry that would have revealed Draco’s presence, and both the list of Ministry guards and Wizengamot members were longer than Harry had anticipated.  He was currently looking through guard files as Hermione sat across from him looking through the members of the Wizengamot.

But Harry couldn’t concentrate.  His mind kept drifting to the conversation he had with Blaise that morning.  It was clear the other man didn’t like him, and that part didn’t really surprise him.  What confused him was how much the other man seemed to like Draco. They weren’t particularly close in school, at least from what Harry could remember.  And while a decade ago Harry would have just attributed the odd couple to the fact that they had both been in the same house, he knew enough about Blaise’s past relationships to know that wasn’t the case.  

Blaise’s dating life was extensive, and he clearly had no problem breaking the house barrier, the gender barrier, and the age barrier.  It seemed he had no stipulations on who he dated or why he dated them. So what was it about Malfoy that made him stop in his tracks?

As far as Harry could see Draco was the exact opposite of someone a person would want to date.  He was hard-to-please, sarcastic, uptight, stuck up, and prickly. He seemed to have nothing to say but complaints and demands.  

And, yet, somehow, the word that came to mind when Blaise was describing him was _cute_.  

Harry just couldn’t understand it.

Harry was blurting out the thought before he took the time to think the question through.  “Would you describe Draco Malfoy as cute?” he asked, cutting through the quiet and causing Hermione to drop her book.

“Would I describe _who_ as _what_?” Hermione asked, her eyes wide.

Harry immediately colored.  “Right. Nevermind. Forget I said anything.”

Hermione bent to pick up her book.  “Harry,” she explained slowly as she sat back in her chair, book in hand, “exactly how do you expect me to forget a question like that?  What even brought it on in the first place?”

“Nothing,” Harry answered too quickly.  He shook his head. “Something Zabini said,” he admitted before muttering, “probably just to get under my skin.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow.  “Oh? And, why, _exactly_ , would it get under your skin in the first place?”

“It didn’t,” Harry answered quickly.  “I mean, it’s not. I just meant that he said it because he _thought_ it would get under my skin.”

Hermione just looked across the table at her friend.

“Okay, fine, maybe it is under my skin a _little_ bit,” Harry said, running a hand through his already messy hair.  

Hermione sighed.  “Yes, that much is obvious.  The important question is _why_.”

Harry ran his hand through his hair again.  “I don’t _know_ ,” he replied.  “Maybe because I just don’t see it.  Why would anyone want to be in a relationship with Malfoy?  Especially someone like Blaise, who has proven he can get basically anyone he wants?  What makes Malfoy so special?”

“Well,” Hermione answered slowly, “That’s certainly something.”  She cocked her head to the side. “So, tell me, is it that you want Zabini looking at you like that?”

“What?  No, of course not,” Harry replied, scrunching his nose.  He ran his hand through his hair yet again before fidgeting in his seat.  “Maybe I just want _someone_ looking at me like that,” he admitted quietly.  “Like Ginny used to … before everything happened between us.”

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione breathed out quietly before getting up to hug him.  “I’d fully support it if you’d like to put yourself back out there,” she said as she drew away, “but you shouldn’t rush yourself.  If you aren’t ready it’s okay to wait.”

“How much more waiting can I go through before it just becomes avoidance?” Harry asked.  “I just feel so stuck in place,” he admitted. “It’s like everything is passing me by, and I’m just letting it go.”

“Maybe the fact that you’re feeling this way means that you are ready to move on,” Hermione suggested.  She smiled at her friend. “We both know you don’t do well at being stationary.”

 

* * *

Draco cursed down at his potion the second he realized he didn’t have any wormroot.  And it was just the right color too. He had told Pansy specifically that he needed it when she went to the store earlier, and she had promised him that she had been diligent in getting everything he had asked for.

Bloody girl had no appreciation for his art.  Now he had less than an hour to obtain some before his potion became completely ruined, and he’d have another six hours wasted due to Blaise’s abhorrent living conditions. (Who didn’t keep wormroot at their house?  Really?)

Draco glared up the stairs.  Pansy had gone for the day. She’d actually run out pretty fast after dropping off all the ingredients Draco had asked her to purchase.  Perhaps because she had known she’d missed the wormroot, but probably because she had another interview to make on his behalf. At any rate, it could be assumed that she wouldn’t be back tonight.

Blaise had floo’d over to his secretary’s about fifteen minutes ago in order to talk about scheduling and maybe taking on some floo interviews.  He couldn’t be expected back within the hour.

Harry Potter (now practically a resident thanks to Blaise) had gone out to do some research with Granger not more than thirty minutes ago.  And if Draco remembered anything about Granger it was the fact that she wouldn't stop her research until she knew every-bloody-thing, so it could be assumed that Potter (thankfully) wouldn't be back for at least the rest of the night. 

Draco did, however, have wormroot available in his private stores at home (since it was such a common potion ingredient and only imbeciles didn’t keep a back supply of it around).  He could easily pop over to his house and back. No one would be the wiser, and he’d be back in plenty of time to save his potion.

He put a stagnation charm on his potion before he started up the stairs and towards the fireplace.  He listened for any noises in the house on his way, knowing that both Blaise and Pansy would explode in a paranoia-induced frenzy if they found out Draco was thinking about leaving the house.  

Draco rolled his eyes.  He could understand not being out running around in the wizarding world, but not allowing him to go to his own house was taking it to the extreme.  Two minutes out of the house wasn’t going to turn him into a deadman.

He called out the name of his residence and stepped through the floo.  He hadn’t taken two steps into his still-demolished living room before he was completely immobilized and falling forward.  He landed on a heap on the floor, unable to do anything about his uncomfortable position.

“Welcome home,” a hoarse voice greeted.  “Took you long enough to get here.”

Draco felt his blood turn cold as he recognized the voice and what it meant.  He couldn’t help but think that he had been right: it had not taken two minutes out of the house to turn him into a deadman; the timespan was closer to fifteen seconds.   

TBC


End file.
